


Reluctance

by sunlitroses



Category: Sanctuary - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-17
Updated: 2012-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-21 12:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 45,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunlitroses/pseuds/sunlitroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He tended to think of it more as a battle of wits than anything more sinister or underhanded. She wanted to doctor; he wanted to not be in the infirmary. Ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, I had a new idea. It's a little vague, but this is the beginning! Enjoy?

He tended to think of it more as a battle of wits than anything more sinister or underhanded. She wanted to doctor; he wanted to not be in the infirmary. Ever. A simple contest. And, as well he knew, the easiest way to win a contest was to let the other person think that they had already won.

So when the witches from medieval times scrambled his brains, he let her make sure he was coherent and set his wrist. While doing so he analyzed, sympathized, vocalized his own opinion, and then made good his escape. He had always been good with ‘-izing’ things. Bandaging the gash in his side and taping up his ribs could wait until this new mystery was at least on its way to being solved.

When Nomad tricked him into being kidnapped, he told her she made it in perfect time. The man never laid a finger on him. Long sleeves weren’t impractical at that time of year anyway.

The fact that she never remembered everything that happened when the crazy parasite staged a coup in her limbic system certainly made hiding that whole wrench-meets-head incident considerably easier.

And after the debacle that was the Super Abnormals, well, who wasn’t hurt? Others needed her attention much more seriously, as he told her. Convincingly. He was getting quite handy with a med kit by then, anyway. Working alongside someone who has had over a century to perfect the art of medicine has its perks.

When he considered just that first year, the amount of time he would have wasted in the infirmary that had been saved by harmless subterfuge was truly amazing.

So he continued for another year, one made easier, in this one respect at least, by her utter distraction in the wake of Ashley’s death. She kept him close, she kept all of them close, needing them to be safe and whole and alive, but the details slipped by her. Particularly if one had practice in submerging them anyway.

Two years now. He didn’t always win every battle; she knew more about him now then he would have liked, more than he had let past his guard before his world was turned upside down. Somehow, and the details in this eluded him in a frustrating fashion, she learned that the medicines she gave him to take after his release more often than not wound up back in the infirmary. Rarely down the sink, he couldn’t bear waste, but sometimes it was the only alternative to that separation of body and mind that so clearly spelled ‘drugged’ to him. Luckily, she seemed to accept that he simply had a high pain threshold. Unluckily, on the occasions when she was determined – and who could do determined better than she? – now she knew to corner him, stand over him, dog him until he gave in to her inevitable will. So not always a shining victory, but he had learned, largely from her in fact, that the battles sometimes matter less than the war.

Kali, however, and the entire set of circumstances surrounding that whole series of crazy weeks were definitely not on the side of the wins. He thought that every hour skillfully conned outside of the med bay came back to haunt him in those weeks. After Mumbai, he almost thought he would escape, given Ravi’s glowing report based mostly on sheer disbelief that he had come back to the land of the living at all. Then, of course, his repressed memories began playing havoc with his sleep and, in time, all hopes of hiding that went straight out the window. Hiding a cold would have been hard surrounded by people who kept checking to make sure you were going to continue to stay alive, let alone the mood swings and narcoleptic tendencies he began to display. He was introduced to a whole new side of the infirmary’s capabilities (Sentient leeches? Really?), not to mention her stubborn will, that time. Although, to be fair, he had downplayed very little of his symptoms; something dire was clearly going on and he was a reluctant patient, not a suicidal one. Especially after the specters attempting to suck out his brain showed up. Still, his internment in the sick bay was an aberration that was bound to happen in their line of work; he was (mostly) cured, she got a new puzzle, and the status quo could now resume. It did.

Until it didn’t.


	2. Three Strikes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not entirely sure where this is going. But I had great fun picking on Will!

The first time, he blamed the new barber his usual shop had hired on. Clearly the man was a butcher, moonlighting.

“When on earth did you pick this scar up?”

The only problem with his game of keep-away with the infirmary was keeping track of which injuries were known and which were self-doctored. He decided to play it safe, “Huh, no idea,” he glanced over at Magnus with a grin, “Not like I’ve had any opportunities around here at all.”

“It can’t have been here,” she was still focused on his temple, “I didn’t treat this wound.”

“You seriously remember that sort of thing?” he really hoped she was exaggerating. She must be, otherwise she would have recognized unfamiliar scars long ago. Though he did keep fairly covered; he never knew when a few extra layers might save him from being dragged into the dungeon. It was so fitting that their infirmary was located in the traditional spot of a torture chamber.

“Any severe injury, yes,” Magnus replied to his half-forgotten question absently, “They tend to be troublesome. Particularly with you,” she shifted her eyes down long enough to favor him with a fond smile.

“Is Kali going to be forever held against me?” he joked, turning his head back to the file he was reviewing and, not incidentally, away from his too-perceptive boss.

“Oh, doubtless.”

He couldn’t help but smile at that, even when trying to distract her; at least she was honest.

“You truly have no idea when this happened?” now her fingers were running over his temple, smoothing back what hair he still possessed to get a closer look. He tried to duck out of her hold unobtrusively.

“Hold still,” signaled that the ‘unobtrusive’ part had failed, at least, “This looks like a fairly deep hit; was it ever scanned?”

“Honestly, Magnus, I don’t remember getting it,” and could we please move on, he didn’t dare voice, “Clearly it healed well and, if it makes you feel better, I’ll wear a hat until the hatchet job on my hair grows out.”

“It is a bit shorter than you tend to prefer,” Magnus said, barely attempting to hide a smirk.

Shorter than I will ever wear it again and just wait until I get my hands on that butcher, he muttered internally.

“Still,” she continued lowly, “it doesn’t look all that old.”

“I just got the trim this morning,” he deliberately misunderstood, “If you can call it that.”

That earned him a gentle flick to the ear as Magnus crossed around to the back of her desk. When he met her eyes over the polished wood, she was fully back in work mode. No harm done.

He should really learn to knock on wood when he said things like that.

* * *

The second time, the laundry was entirely to blame. Rather, the lack of laundry and his subsequent need to dress like a refugee.

“Dude, did you shrink overnight?”

Not precisely the way he would prefer to begin his day.

“No. Our washing machine decided to go on strike until its detergent needs are met. I believe it has taken the dryer hostage,” he wondered if Henry would be any good with a washer. It had an engine, of sorts, right? “Maybe you would care to go open negotiations?”

“I assume a wrench would be involved in these negotiations? Yeah, if the Doc doesn’t need me for anything, I’ll give it a look. Though,” Henry continued unconcernedly, “normally all I do with washers is gut them for parts.”

Awesome.

“Well, if negotiations fail, you can always fall back on threats, then,” he could pull off unconcerned as well. He could pull it off better if his shirt wasn’t close to resembling a muumuu.

“I know some clothes stretch with wear, but don’t you think you’ve taken it to extremes?” and cue Kate on the scene, he sighed. He opened his mouth to explain, when a thought occurred to him.

“How do you both still have clothes?”

“Some of us don’t shop like monks on a holy day, Will,” Kate said, flopping onto the couch, “It’s called ‘having a wardrobe’.”

“I have a closet. It’s in the room and everything,” he smirked.

“No, you have a suitcase, at best,” Kate continued over his next sentence, “And don’t you dare say it’s a girl thing, because even Hank here has more clothes than you. And you don’t even go all Hulk and rip up any of yours.”

He looked over at Henry for backup. Henry shrugged.

“It’s the truth, man.”

“That’s an interesting fashion statement, Will,” and now Magnus. Wasn’t this just the jolliest morning?

“It’s your washer that staged a mutiny,” he said.

“Not that long ago,” she muttered, looking him over, “Perhaps you might go shopping this afternoon? I’m reluctant to inflict you upon guests,” she paused slightly, “Or residents, for that matter.”

“It’s not that bad!” he felt the need to defend his last shirt.

“Dude, it really is.”

“Yeah, you look like we should have a pledge drive for you or something.”

Yes, he really needed help from the peanut gallery; so much for solidarity among the peons.

“Fine, I will shop. IF,” he spoke over whatever witticism was no doubt coming his way, “we stop discussing this now.”

“We do have a few other matters of more pressing import,” Magnus conceded as the Big Guy stepped into the room.

“Huh,” he grunted, making his way over to a chair and eyeing The Shirt.

There was a pause and he almost breathed a sigh of relief.

“Should I add more calories to your diet?” came before he could finish his exhale. It took a minute before the penny dropped.

It took a bit longer for Magnus to corral the meeting back on track. She had to stop laughing first, after all.

.

Despite the slow start, the staff meeting flew by with Magnus’ usual efficiency. They ran through the current outstanding abnormal cases and updated each other on those cases solved and residing in Sanctuary. When Magnus moved on to telling Kate off for another impetuous action, Henry off for dismantling a needed system, and himself off for falling behind in paperwork, he knew they were almost through.

“Everything clear?” Magnus paused.

After a general nodding ascent, they made movements towards the door and whatever madness awaited them today. He remained behind; he had a few recommendations he wanted to put in on a recent abnormal case, but it was more on the doctor-patient level than the staff level. Magnus followed the Big Guy out, deep in discussion, so he leaned forward and snatched a case file off his stack while he waited for her return.

“Will?” broke into his thoughts a few minutes later, deep in the intricacies of a telepathic case study.

“Yeah, I just needed to run a few ideas past you about Marina’s case,” he stated absently, still absorbed.

“Ah, yes, I wanted to see you about her, as well,” the familiar voice moved behind him and he felt a hand on his shoulder as she leaned in to catch of glimpse of his current file. It was truly unfair that contact softened every defense he had; it made the act into something he both craved and avoided. Like so many vices, he considered.

“Catching up?” drifted over his head.

“Mmm,” he agreed, “Telepathy puts a great deal of my usual techniques out of bounds. I understand it; if I could hear myself being analyzed, I would probably clam up as well. It means, however,” he sighed, “that I need a new bag of tricks.”

The hand patted his shoulder approvingly as Magnus straightened. She paused in the motion, however, and her hand moved to the back of his shirt; which, he now noticed, was slipping back over his shoulder at an alarming rate.

“I know,” he said to forestall the expected comment, “Shopping. I’m on it.”

He was ignored as Magnus pulled the shirt further back and to the right.

“Um, Magnus? Air?” he remarked, although the shirt was too loose to be causing any threat to his larynx. He hoped the comment would get her talking about her strange actions.

“Sorry,” she murmured, not loosening her hold in the slightest. He felt her other hand run over the bare skin of his shoulder blade. What was she doing? He stiffened suddenly, remembering the scuffle last week when the abnormal they had quickly christened Sleepy had come out of hibernation early and confused. He had wound up thrown to the ground and pinned until someone stunned the creature in the right spot. To add insult to injury, he had landed on his own gun, which had gouged a decent-sized hole in the shoulder Magnus was now scrutinizing. Crap. At least it was healing well; though pleading ignorance probably wouldn’t cut it with her.

“Magnus?” he said again, turning to look over his left shoulder, pulling his right out of her reach, “Everything all right?” A preemptive strike was always suitable. That plus a sunny demeanor that said ‘and what could be wrong?’ might throw her off a bit.

Or maybe not.

“What happened?” she bluntly demanded, pulling him back to the right.

“Ah, well,” his mind flicked over what she might conceivably buy. Ignorance was right out; you’d have to be dead not to notice this one. Unconcern would result in an impressive lecture. Masculine pride? He played it so infrequently, it could work. “It’s a bit embarrassing, really.”

“More so than this shirt?” she softly teased, which was an excellent sign that she was going along with him so far.

“It’s a comfortable shirt,” he gallantly defended, grinning back at her.

“Hm. This shoulder can’t be very comfortable,” she shot back. Deflecting her was not going down today; he had guessed that  
much already.

“Actually, it doesn’t hurt. High pain threshold and everything,” he countered, glad he had convinced her of that ages ago.

“It had to have hurt when you received it; which was when?” she prodded.

He sighed.

“Out with it, Will.”

“Sleepy,” he said, reluctantly. The more she had to drag out of him, the less likely she’d pursue it past the initial injury.

“When he broke out of hibernation?” she sounded startled, “How did he cause this; he was relatively docile.”

She really needed to not use that word on abnormals, as they were consistently proving her definition of it inaccurate.

“When I, ah, landed on the floor,” he admitted.

“The floor did this?” now she just sounded incredulous.

“My shoulder sort of,” now that he was telling this tale, he realized it actually did embarrass his masculine pride. Well, at least that made it believable, “landed less on the floor and more on, well, my gun.”

“Your gun,” her voice was suspiciously flat.

He sighed and closed his eyes. “Yes.”

He wondered if she was even trying to hide her snickering as she tugged his shirt back down to reexamine the injury in light of this new fact.

“Ah, yes,” she finally said, when her breathing was under control, “I can see the casing imprint now,” her voice wobbled on the word ‘casing.’

“If we’re done?” he queried, trying to pull away.

“Not quite,” Magnus sounded brisk again. Uh-oh. “Now that you’re confessed the dire deed, I want a bandage on it. You can hardly walk around with a hole in your back, Will. You have better sense that that. Come on.”

“It’s pretty healed by now, though,” he protested, tossing his case file back onto the stack, “Isn’t this overkill?”

“There’s a hole in your back, Will,” she repeated, tone stern, “Infirmary. Now.”

He reluctantly stood and began to gather his files.

“You can leave them here,” Magnus interrupted, “We still need to discuss Marina and this will only take a minute. It’s hardly the gallows,” she continued as he preceded her through the door, “and I promise,” she said with the tone of one denying oneself a great treasure, “not to tell the others.”

“You’re all heart, Magnus,” he sighed as she stifled a giggle and led him to the dungeons. At least she had no further questions; he could safely put it out of his mind. He thought she would as well. In retrospect, that might have been overly optimistic.

* * *

This one, he reluctantly admitted, was all him. It started out so stupidly as well, an inane discussion between the three of them about why women found it harder to do pull-ups and men found it harder to do a flex-arm hang.

“It’s just simple physiology,” he stated

“I could totally kick your ass at pull-ups,” Kate defended.

“Ooo, fighting words,” Henry smirked. Maybe he was actually to blame, come to think of it.

“I’m not saying that you couldn’t,” he said, with a glare at Henry, “Just that, physiologically speaking, it’s harder for women to build up the strength in that particular exercise. It’s the same reason why men, in general, totally suck at the arm hang.”

“Dude’s right, there, Kate,” Henry chimed in helpfully, “We all did pull-ups if we couldn’t sneak out of gym, ‘cause the arm hang made us look like wusses.”

“Hard to imagine. Fine. Physiologically and all that. I’m just saying, individually, I could pump out more than you any day of the week,” Kate ended with a nod.

“Are you going to just take that?” Henry looked thrilled.

“What? We are not having some sort of contest. That’s just ridiculous,” he paused, “Besides, I believe her.”

All of which, of course, meant that they wound up in the gym, Henry appointing himself official referee and him trying to figure out how he’d lost this argument so monumentally. Henry laid out his meticulous rules, which he hoped wound up to ‘do as many pull-ups as you can before you die,’ as he wasn’t paying much attention. He suspected Kate wasn’t either, she wasn’t much of what you would call a ‘rules’ person. If he had to do this, he wasn’t going to make it an easy contest. Kate would, quite possibly, win over his dead, or at least inert, body.

“Ready? Set? Go!”

He had just enough time to wonder where Henry had found a whistle before he had to focus on not losing to Kate. Who clearly was no stranger to the pull-up bar and had set a punishing rhythm already. Great.

“Dude, quit watching Kate and speed it up already!”

He supposed it was too much to hope for a silent referee. Aside from Henry’s interjections, it was a very quiet fight to the death. Pull-ups didn’t really allow you to hurl insults at your opponent, which meant that they all heard the click of Magnus’ heels long before she reached the room. Henry looked panicked, but Kate managed to roll her eyes. He tried not to be envious of that; he knew he didn’t have the strength left.

“Pull-ups. Not. Illegal.”

Rolling her eyes _and_ a sentence of sorts. Show off.

The heels stopped in the doorway. Clearly, Magnus was trying to figure out what they were doing and if she should be worried.

“Doc! What’s up?”

Thank God Henry could speak.

“I was looking for Kate. If I could possibly tear her away?”

“Hey, Kate! Looks like you have to forfeit!”

“Not. Fair.”

“Look on the bright side, you’re five ahead of Will, maybe he’ll pass out before he catches up.”

If he could have glared at Henry, he so would have. He settled for thinking a glare in his direction. Kate huffed, but let go of the bar and headed towards Magnus. Okay, five, no six, more, he could do this. He could so do this. He might die, but, damn it, he was going to do this.

“C’mon, dude, three more. You can make it. Ow! Aren’t you leaving?”

Two more. His arms were threatening mutiny. He didn’t blame them. One more. Just one. Lousy. Pull-up.

“We have a champion!”

Thank God. Now if he could just remember how to let go of the bar. Or he could just hang here for a bit, that was good, too.

“Are you coming down any time soon?”

He heard the click as Magnus reentered the room. She must have walked Kate down the hall, then came back to what? Watch him expire?

“Has he given up?” her voice was darkly amused.

“Nah, he won. Then he just stopped moving. I think we might have broken him. Is there a twenty-four hour  
psychologist store?”

“I’d hate to replace the broken-in model,” Magnus’ voice grew closer to him, “Maybe he’s fixable.”

Oh, they were so very funny. Them with their working hands and… stuff. Wow, even his mind was sort of hanging out to dry. He heard the heels stop in front of him and another laugh that cut off abruptly. Had she seen the glares he was attempting to think at both of them?

“Henry, didn’t you want Kate to field test that new stunner on her next mission?”

“Oh, right, I did! Is it too late now?”

“She was going to stop by the armory. If you hurry, you might be able to catch her.”

Good. He could be alone while he tried to figure out how to jumpstart his fingers. Maybe. Henry scurried out the door, but Magnus didn’t move an inch. Maybe not.

“Fingers locked?”

Oh, she was good. He should probably answer that question.

“Yeah,” he breathed out.

She stepped closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and lifting upwards. That took enough weight off his fingers that they slipped off the bar with hardly any effort from him, which was just as well as he didn’t have much to expend. He hit the ground with less elegance than Kate; but the important thing was that he had won. Unscrupulously, but still won. And he was never, ever doing a rematch. Once Magnus decided he could probably stand on his own, she looped a hand around his nearest arm and led him in the direction of the bench. Oh, sitting would be lovely, indeed. Magnus thought of everything.

Except she didn’t let him sit. She paused out of range of the door and, quick as thought, pushed his shirt halfway up his chest.

“Magnus?” he tried to step away from her, confused. Not that it did much good; she grabbed a belt loop and yanked him back towards his suddenly-insane boss.

“This is not over two years old, Will,” her voice was practically a growl.

“What?” he tried to process that statement, but his usual abilities at perception were severely dulled by his new-found desire to keel over on any available surface. In answer, she swung him around to face the bank of mirrors and indicated the scar curving around the right side of his stomach, just grazing his hip bone. He’d forgotten that these pants rode this low. Stupid mistake.

“Well,” he had no clue as to what to say here and, if she was going to kill him, it would be less unwelcome than she might think. He could lie down if he was dead. So he didn’t say anything. Magnus tugged him back to face her.

“Care to explain where that came from?” her tone was far too level; especially as he couldn’t remember that answer just at the moment. Clearly, it hadn’t been one he’d told her about. At least that question was answered. When had his stomach been… cut? It looked like a cut. Sort of. Very clean edges, so it must have been a sharp blade or… oh. Now he remembered.

“What?” he had almost forgotten that Magnus was in front of him. Guess she saw the light bulb go off. How on earth could he explain this one? He hesitated.

“Will.”

He needed to think fast. He’d start with the truth and just… wing it.

“Ah, you remember when Tesla got devamped?” he blurted out, watching her expression move from threatening to assessing.

“Hard to forget, really. It was quite dramatic,” she contributed. As long as she was still talking with him, rather than at him, it was going well. He had guidelines by now.

“Well, if I’m remembering correctly – there was a lot going on then, if you’ll recall,” he tried out a grin on her. No dice. The conversation wasn’t that far along yet, okay, try again later.

“Anyway, I think one of the baby vamps got in a lucky swipe,” he watched her eyes drop back to the scar and waited her out; she was so going to have more questions.

“That explains where it came from,” she pointed out, calmly meeting his eyes once more, “but not why it went untreated. Unless my old friend bandaged you up, by chance?”

It would be so easy to say yes and move on, but he knew that the Big Guy would remember and one question would lead Magnus back to him with much, much harder questions on her lips. Plus, he didn’t know if he could outright lie to Magnus; he’d honestly never tried.

“No. No, you just had a lot on your plate, Magnus. Tesla is a handful for anyone.”

“Making sure that no vital organs were nicked and that you weren’t in danger of bleeding out was just as important as Nikola’s identity crisis. Not to mention quite a bit quicker to deal with,” Magnus closed her eyes briefly, “What did you do? I assume you at least bandaged it as you’re still breathing?”

“Oh yes, I’m a wizard with gauze and tape,” he trotted a smile out again and at least got a flicker of recognition this time. Things were improving. Then she reached out and traced the scar again.

“Do you realize how easily this could have been something more severe? Nikola’s claws could shred much harder substances than human flesh and if this swipe had cut even the tiniest hole in an intestinal wall…” Magnus stopped and closed her eyes briefly again; he was beginning to think that was not a good sign, “Peritonitis is not pleasant, Will. And if you hadn’t died of it…”

“You would have killed me yourself,” he contributed before he could reconsider a flippant remark. He did garner a slight smile, before her eyes looked over the scar again and her face slid back to serious mode. She pulled his shirt down and straightened it before resting her hands on his shoulders.

“Do not ever neglect to come to me with an injury, Will,” suddenly Magnus was serious as granite, with anger burning in her eyes, “We do dangerous work here and I need to know that you can handle whatever situation we’re thrown into next. Not to mention,” she continued with a slight lightening of tone, if not of eyes, “that I am your physician of record and your well-being is my responsibility. It is not a charge that I take lightly.”

He shifted uneasily; he’d always considered his continued health his own responsibility, if anyone’s other than Lady Luck with their lifestyle.

“Promise me.”

Startled, he looked up at Magnus. She didn’t normally ask for promises. He knew how seriously she took them.

“Of course,” he tried to smile reassuringly, and gloss over the part where he didn’t exactly promise anything, “But Magnus, you know if it had seemed severe or didn’t begin to heal, I would have come to you right away.”

That might almost be true; he didn’t want to die, he just didn’t want any fuss.

“I’m sure,” she stated, although she looked less than convinced, “but it’s not altogether reassuring, Will. I would prefer if you left the decision as to the severity of your injuries up to your doctor. Who would happen to be me,” she added pointedly.

“Right, got the memo: No more independent diagnostics,” one more smile and he might make it out the door in one piece.

“Good,” Magnus smiled back at him, “Now you’d best go lie down before you fall over. You’ll need the rest when Kate wants a rematch.”

“Not happening. Ever,” he stated, “If she wants a rematch, she’ll have to talk Henry into it.”

“Hm. She’s stubborn, you know,” Magnus warned as they moved into the hallway.

“So are my arms and they’ve laid out an ultimatum,” he shot back as he split off to the residential wing. Magnus laughed and headed towards her office. A giant exhale escaped him as he entered his room; he’d come through that relatively unscathed. Still it had been the third time.

And since when had Magnus needed three proofs to reach a conclusion?


	3. You're Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing and profit none.
> 
> A/N: Yes, I'm being mean to Will again. It's fun!

Several weeks passed by in the usual helter-skelter style that the Sanctuary staff had perfected. Or at least worked pretty well under. Well, in any case, everyone survived. Some weeks, he considered, that’s as much as you could reasonably ask for around the Sanctuary. Enough days and nights separated him from what he privately termed The Great Gym Showdown that he felt comfortable with letting it slip away from the front of his mind every time he spoke with Magnus. Clearly, she had let it go; now, so could he. Joyfully.

One day he would really have to learn to stop underestimating Helen Magnus.

The day, which would soon become That Day is his mind, began like any other – organized chaos – and rapidly went south from there. A band of ruffians – Kate’s original term for the group, which they had all quickly adopted with glee; even Magnus, who normally hesitated to nickname anything, had simply said ‘How fitting.’ before latching on to the term – had seized a fragile cargo of abnormals and, as per usual, their merry band had ridden to the rescue.

What had been less that usual, much to his annoyance, was whatever weapon the ruffians had managed to jury-rig out of junk left behind in the warehouse they had commandeered. If they weren’t quite so obviously labeled ‘Bad Guys,’ he would have been impressed by the wallop that thing managed to pack. As he was the one who personally discovered said wallop and, subsequently, found himself sliding down a wall that used to be ten feet further away from him, he was less than thrilled with their prowess. 

Worse yet, Magnus had cornered him by the van after they, a little too late in his biased opinion, beat the heck out of the ruffians and all but ordered him to the infirmary once they got back. He thought that he had held up fairly well considering the wall he had recently been introduced to and, despite the fact that he felt like a walking bruise, none of his injuries really warranted pulling her away from the recently liberated abnormals. So, it was time for a disappearing act. Magnus was a woman under constant demand; provided he stayed far away long enough, she would be too busy to hunt him down. This way, he didn’t waste her time and, bonus!, he didn’t have to get yet another tour of the dungeon.

“I’ll have a word with them, Henry, before I patch up Will.”

Those words pulled him back into the conversation and he glanced around the circle of the main lab to see if anyone had noticed his slight space out. All signs pointed to no and he was something of an expert in signs, so he relaxed and tried to catch up. Kate had definitely already been given an assignment, from the tense way she tried not to bounce on one foot while waiting for a general release. Probably something to do with armaments and he did want to know what the hell had knocked him out flat. He eased carefully away from Magnus and then around to stand beside Kate.

“Do you mind if I give you a hand? I’d like to know more about these things. At least enough to know when to duck next time,” he gave her a sheepish grin, one of the easier ways to get her to agree.

“Sure. Though Hank will probably know more of the technobabble; but I can get you acquainted with the mechanics, though,” Kate smirked, “seems like you kinda got personally acquainted with that end of things.”

He forced a snort, “Yeah. I’d definitely rather be on the other end next time.”

“So, you’ll head over after med?”

“You aren’t headed down now?” he frowned, “I guess I could get the technobabble first.”

“Nah, I’m going now,” Kate looked over towards Magnus, “Well, soon, I hope. Don’t you need to make sure everything’s still in the right place, though?”

“What, after that? Small potatoes around here. I’m fine; and curious as hell about what they managed to rig up,” he watched Kate grin in empathy with that statement and inwardly gave himself a thumbs up, “C’mon, they’ll be teching it up for a while,” he motioned over to Magnus and Henry, “Let’s book.”

They began to move away from the cluster, but obviously he had miscalculated Magnus’ ability to multitask.

“Will, where are you heading?” the clear voice rang through the intervening space.

Crap. Still, bluffs had worked wonders in the past.

“Thought I’d give Kate a hand,” he half-turned back towards the room with a cheerful smile, “It sounded like you wouldn’t need me any time soon.”

“Meeting with the ruffians is entirely optional, but you do need to be looked over,” her level tone matched the look in her eyes, which were trying to convey a message that he chose to ignore.

“If you insist, I’ll meet up with you later,” he laughed roughly, “I feel fine and jury-rigged weapons wait for no man.”

When he passed his eyes over hers again, blinking rapidly away, the look in them had changed. He didn’t know into what exactly, but they had gone softer and harder at the same time.

“Actually, before you go, Kate, some of what Henry’s already determined about the weapon might be of use to you,” she looked at Henry before tilting her head towards Kate, “Just give her the run down you gave me.”

“Sure thing, Boss,” Henry grinned, before focusing on Kate, already wandering back into the center of the room.

He had a moment of foreboding before Magnus’ attention swung back to him and he braced himself as she made her way towards his station near the door. When she reached him, Magnus wrapped a hand around his upper arm and tugged him further away from the group, angling them so that they could talk, lowly, in private. Clearly, she knew him well enough to know that she would have an easier time getting her way if she browbeat him without an audience. Though, having not left the room definitely indicated that she wasn’t above it, either. Her low tones brought his attention away from analyzing her actions.

“Your options are to come with me while we take care of this and then visit the infirmary or to wait for me in the infirmary. Take your pick.”

He lowered his gaze and thought quickly; either way he had some moves he could make. If he went with her, the case might spin out long enough for her to forget, on the other hand, if he was headed to the infirmary and something just happened to come up, then surely she couldn’t blame him for putting his job ahead of minor injuries. A few seconds passed, before her voice calmly took control again.

“If you are coming with me, we should go now; the situation shouldn’t take long and we’ll have you patched up soon. If you’re heading downstairs, then I’m sure my old friend will be happy to keep you company.”

Startled, he looked up into knowing blue eyes. How…? He realized that her hand had slid down from his bicep to his wrist. Ah. Rapid pulse had led her to his thought process; that infernal knowledge of him had given her the details. Option One definitely had more possibilities then, if Option Two came with a furry escort.

“We should go then,” he tried to speak as calmly as she had, but the sound came out rougher and didn’t have quite the same solid effect. He didn’t dare glance into her eyes. Her hand tightened on his wrist for a moment, then loosened as she pulled him towards the doorway, before letting go altogether.

Magnus paused before the door and the abrupt stop almost sent him into her back. “Keep me informed of your progress,” she requested of the others still in the room, who nodded distractedly. They didn’t even seem surprised that she had him in tow, he noted, though he supposed that some days it did seem they were joined at the hip. No hope of rescue there, he sighed. Maybe the ruffians would be boisterous. And how sad was it when that was his great hope?

 

 

 

 

“It looks like you managed to avoid a concussion, thankfully,” were the first words he got from Magnus after they entered the med bay. Somehow, she had avoided all of his skillful maneuvering and he had wound up precisely where he’d been trying to avoid. This was so not his day. The bright light she was flicking into his eyes was set aside and he shuffled his legs as she placed one hand to either side of him and leaned down slightly to catch his eyes.

“Well, I did tell you I was fine,” he managed with a bark of laughter. He scooched closer to the edge of the cot, but she didn’t move away from him, so he moved back again. Why was nothing ever easy?

“So there’s nothing else I should take a look at, then?” her tone was light, but he sensed a trap lurking somewhere underneath. Nope, Magnus was never easy. He didn’t have anything to tell her, though. His knee ached, but an ace bandage would keep that in line, and the cuts across his back stung, but one good shower and he’d feel like a new man. Everything else was just bruises. Nothing to report, ma’am.

“I could use some sleep,” he tried with a grin, keeping his gaze light and projecting good will. The blue eyes locked with his seemed less than convinced, still she straightened to look down at him from the height one gained when not stuck on a blasted cot.

“Good,” she pronounced. He blinked. It couldn’t possibly be that easy. “Then you won’t mind stripping.”

Right, never easy, he should make a note of that sometime.

“W-what?” he couldn’t help stuttering. This was new. He decided he hated new. “That’s not necessary.”

“Really,” was all that Magnus said, but he knew that tone very, very well. It was the tone she used on Tesla when he was trying to get away with something mad scientist-ish that he knew she couldn’t allow and the same one she used on Henry when he was trying to duck out of a task that didn’t involve gears and software. The one she had used on Ashley when she snuck out against her mother’s wishes or took too many risks on a mission. He was so screwed.

She stepped closer to him and he tried to simultaneously straighten up and move away, which worked about as well as could be expected seeing as how he was still trapped on a cot. He gave her another grin and tried to work out an easy line to diffuse the situation. Nothing lightened up an infirmary like the right zinger. Before he could take a stab at it, though, he felt her hand at his side and pain bolted through him, leaving him breathless.

When the pain subsided and he opened his eyes again, his first sight was a pair of furious blue eyes staring back at him.

“Potential rib fractures need no attention, in your opinion, then?” Magnus demanded, “Never mind whatever else got knocked about when, as I had not thought you would need to be reminded, you flew through the air and hit a wall?” Her tone grew more intense as she lectured; by the word ‘wall,’ he swore it could cut steel. He winced. This was not going well.

“I thought I was just bruised,” he said, lamely. This was feeding the fire, he knew, but what else could he say? ‘I was actually hoping you hadn’t noticed that bit and also that I could go up to my room and patch myself together alone.’ Though he hadn’t noticed the ribs; he was aching in too many places from wall collision to pick one out to focus upon.

“A deduction that should be left up to a medical professional. A fact you well know,” she took a deep breath and exhaled, “Any other ‘bruises’ you might like to mention now?”

He hesitated. What else should he give up and what did he have a hope of keeping to himself?

Suddenly, hands were slipping his overshirt down his shoulders. He grabbed the cloth and looked up at Magnus, fighting a wince at the twinge the movement gave to the cuts on his back.

“If you will not tell me, a full examination is your other choice,” she said quietly, her blue eyes holding his firmly. He breathed on that thought and decided to give up his back, at least she could make sure every cut was disinfected, but his knee really didn’t need all this fuss. Before he could speak, her hands tugged at his shirt again.

“Wait.”

“Until I know that you are telling me everything that is wrong with you, consistently, you will be losing a lot of clothing in this room. Best get used to it,” Magnus said in an implacable tone, tugging the shirt down to his wrists.

“Look, I know that…” was a sentence he never got to finish, interrupted by her soft curse.

“When did this happen?” her gloves were running over his left bicep and after a moment of complete confusion, he cursed as well remembering the fight two weeks ago and the knife he had taken in that arm. The cut wasn’t so bad; it was just being stubborn about healing. A few more days and it would have been fine. Not that he had a chance to say that either. “From the look of it, I would say a few weeks. The fight in the docks?”

It wasn’t really a question. They both knew it was from the fight, just as they both knew that he had told her that his injuries were limited to a split lip and many colorful bruises. Still he had to answer somehow. “It looks worse that it is; I barely feel it and…”

“It’s infected,” her tone was hard, “and the edges have split beyond the original injury. How much worse would you want it to be?”

Magnus turned away to pull one of the rolling trays over to the bed and he took the opportunity to shrug his shirt back on and get a complete sentence out. “It’ll be fine in a few days. I can take care of it myself.”

 She turned back to him then and narrowed her eyes at his shirt and the movements he was making towards the edge of the cot. Stepping close to him again, blocking his escape route, she ran a hand down his right arm, “No, Will, you cannot,” Magnus paused for a moment, “More importantly, you will not,” she tried to catch his eyes again, but he couldn’t look at her anymore, “I will patch up _all_ of your injuries and then we will talk about this.”

“Why don’t we talk first,” he made a bid to at least put off her particular brand of torture. Words he could win with, not so much gauze and tape, “I really think that you think this is worse than it truly is and I’d like to clear up your opinion of me now, if we could.”

“Will, my opinion of you is unaltered,” her hand tightened on his arm, before rubbing up and down again, “I promise you that, but if you prefer we can talk first. Though I think you might find it easier if you were more comfortable.”

He resisted the urge to state that he was fine and fired a smile in her general direction, as he didn’t want to see that steady gaze anymore today, “Fire away, then. It’s really not as grim as you’re making it out.”

There was a long pause.

“Truthfully, I don’t even know where I should begin asking questions, Will,” Magnus sighed as he continued to focus anywhere but those too-piercing eyes, “Or if you would tell me the truth whatever I asked.”

Startled, he unthinkingly stared up at her, “I have never lied to you, Magnus. I would never… I couldn’t.”

Her eyes changed as they had before, up in the main lab, but he still couldn’t define the expression. Which was infuriating.

“But you have, Will,” her voice was soft now, almost pleading, but very certain, “Don’t you see? Hiding injuries from me, risking your health; heaven knows, even your life! Maybe you never told me a lie, but you have certainly acted out a good many.”

Confused, he dropped his gaze again. He needed to think this through; she was wrong, though even considering that seemed slightly off, he just needed time to figure out how. Time she had evidently decided he wasn’t going to have right now.

“Will, look at me.”

Not now, he mentally pleaded, come back later when you’ve stopped twisting things around.

“Will,” a slightly harder tone now and fingers pressing underneath his chin, encouraging his head to come up, though, he thankfully noted, not forcing him anywhere, “Will, I need you to look at me.”

Magnus so rarely needed anything. From anyone. He sighed and set aside his mental battle for later, looking up again into those serious blue eyes.

“That’s better,” she moved her hand to rest against his shoulder. Against his will, almost, he leaned into her; when had she learned that touch could bring down his defenses further than usual? Hadn’t he kept at least that from her successfully? Clearly she had noticed more than he could keep track of; maybe that was the consequence of keeping company with Sherlock Holmes for more than a century. Fingers from her other hand tapped his chin and, as his eyes jumped back up to hers, he realized that they had slid over her shoulder without his conscious approval. Oops. “It’s okay, Will. Now, you know I’m going to need some answers later, but for now let’s just concentrate on the physical, alright?”

He wondered what would happen if he said no, this was certainly not alright, and he would like to just go upstairs to sleep it off, thank you very much. He doubted that would go down very well and settled for shrugging the shoulder she wasn’t touching. There was another sigh above him, which is when he noticed that he was staring at the floor again. That was becoming annoying as well; who couldn’t control their own eyes? And those fingers were tapping at his chin again. He really just wanted to go to bed now; maybe he would wake up far away from the infirmary and find out that it had all been a nightmare. He felt something brushing his knee and focused on dark hair. Confused, he looked around to find that Magnus had given up on him looking at her and was trying to catch his gaze instead. Succeeding too, he realized somewhat dazedly, but why did she look so concerned? She was definitely winning this battle; probably even the war, with the way things were going.

“Will? Will? Can you hear me?”

Wait, how long had she been calling him? She was muttering to herself now.

“Pulse is far too rapid. Skin clammy,” Ah, she had her fingers on his wrist now. She raised her voice to a more audible range again, “Will, you need to calm down. It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re alright. It’s just me, Will. It’s Magnus. Can you hear me? Can you look at me? Or nod?”

Definitely concerned. Which seemed silly, after all he was already in the infirmary and of course he knew who he was with; who else would drag him down here? Best not to contemplate that, actually. Still, he should nod or something. Though he seemed to remember that being easier before. And his chest hurt, like he couldn’t breathe, like that really big ruffian had come back just to sit on him for fun. If he nodded, what if that made breathing worse? Those fingers were back on his chin, though, and he really wished she would just let him do this on his own, but he reached out with his right hand and wrapped it around her arm. There. Not a nod, but it would suffice, he hoped. If it tugged her fingers away from his chin, that was just a bonus.

“Okay. Good,” her voice sounded very measured, but far away somehow, though he knew she was right there in front of him, “Will, I need you to breathe slowly. Breathe with me, okay? In. Out.”

That was harder than he actually expected and he gave up the fight to keep his eyes open and just tried to follow her voice. That ruffian on his chest was already beginning to have second thoughts about his chosen couch, which meant this must be doing some good. In. Out. Okay, he could do this. He was awesome at breathing. He could breathe for the Olympics. Ha, the ruffian had totally decamped now. Just for a few minutes, he let himself enjoy breathing. Maybe he could become zen and just focus on breathing all day, he had clearly been taking it for granted up until now. The voice above his head had changed cadence again, if not tone, and he struggled to tune back into the sound.

“Good. You’re doing fine. You’re safe, Will. It’s okay.”

He reluctantly hustled the rest of his consciousness out to see what his body had been doing outside of breathing. It was with some consternation and much embarrassment that he realized at some point his head had pillowed into Magnus’ shoulder and it couldn’t have been all her doing, as his arm was wrapped around her back pretty darn tightly. He could feel that her other hand was still keeping time with his left wrist and he blackly wondered if she should just marry the damn thing and be done with it already. He should really sit up now. With a Herculean effort, he managed to turn his head so that his temple rested against her shoulder and he could watch the liaise of his pulse and her fingers.

“Hey there,” the rote words had stopped dropping off her lips with his movement, though her left hand still moved against his back. Yes, this was certainly humiliating. He tried to tug his wrist away, but she held on. It didn’t take much effort from her; he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this drained. “Let me just hang on to this for a little longer, okay? “ Oh joy, he loved being patronized. Still, it justified him closing his eyes again. The back rub did feel nice; it just wasn’t necessary. And he really, really wanted to go to bed now. Fat chance of that now that he’d, what? Chest pain, short breath, clammy skin; probable diagnosis of a panic attack. Great. That’ll get her off your back, Will. “Hey now, calm down. Breathe, Will.” Ah yes, his chest was tightening up again. Damn ruffian staging a comeback. Back to zen mode, those were good times.

 He lost himself in breathing and it came as something of a surprise when Magnus let go of his wrist all of her own accord. He was beginning to think he’d have to pry her off with a crow bar. Even more startling was the move her hand made over to cup his cheek; that one made his stubborn eyes flick open of their own accord straight into a blue set looking down at him.

“How are you feeling?” He didn’t even know where to begin with that one. Humiliated? Frustrated? Shaky? Paranoid that the ruffian would decamp on his rib cage again soon? He settled for blinking. Slowly. Magnus moved on, “Do you think you could lay back?”

In his own room? Yes, he certainly could. From the way she was trying to maneuver him flat onto the cot beneath him, however, he guessed that probably wasn’t on the cards. He tried to push away from the cot, but it was like ordering spaghetti to go for a run and he wound up flat on his back with one of Magnus’ hands at his wrist yet again and the other cupped around his face. What was it with her and sticking fingers in his ear? He tried to twitch it away, but all that happened was that her thumb started gliding over his cheekbone. Soothingly. Would this day never end?

Magnus sighed and moved the hand from his face down to his side, “Why don’t you try and rest. I’ll give you something to help keep you calm enough to sleep for a little while, okay?”

No. She knew he hated drugs. He made a valiant effort to sit up, which was easily stopped with one gentle hand on his chest.

“It’s alright, Will. I will be here the whole time,” her voice was placating, while her right hand left his wrist to retrieve something from the tray at the head of the bed. He recognized a syringe as she moved to pull up his sleeve and swab the crook of his elbow. Before he could formulate an escape plan, the needle slipped into his vein and she depressed the plunger. This was the worst day ever.

He fell into sleep with a soft voice ghosting over his head and a hand ruffling through his hair. Her other hand, of course, was at his wrist. He hoped they’d be very happy together.

 


	4. A Few Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing and profit none.
> 
> A/N: Just an aside - Drugged!Will? Great fun to write. :)

Someone was calling his name. At least, he was pretty sure it was his name. Everything felt a little – distant. Fuzzy. That was the word. Good word, too. He was proud that he’d thought of it; almost as good as inventing a word, thinking of the right one.

“Will?”

Oh, right. There it went again. He should answer. It would be rude not to answer. He should figure out who it was first, actually. Why was it so dark?

“Open your eyes, Will.”

Huh, that voice had good ideas.

“Thank you. Now open your eyes for me.”

Sometime during the night someone had come along and attached lead weights to his eyelids. That wasn’t at all sporting. Still, he would like to know who this voice was and managed to drag his eyes partway open. Blurry. White. His voice was a cloud? Or… something else white. He had a feeling his mental track had taken a wrong station somewhere.

“Will, up here.”

A touch at his chin moved his head around slowly and voice was a pale blur surrounded by a dark cloud. Was this an improvement? The touch on his chin moved to cradle his face.

“It’s Magnus, Will.”

Magnus. That sounded familiar. Magnus. Suddenly his mind slid into the right frame and memories of Magnus came pouring through. Oh, it was alright then, this was Magnus.

“Mag-nus,” was that his voice? It sounded a million miles away. Maybe someone else wanted her instead.

“That’s right. Magnus. I need your help.”

It must have been his voice. Wait, help? He didn’t think he would be much help right now; something seemed off, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what. Still, this was Magnus.

“’K.”

“Good. I’m going to help you sit up, okay?”

Wasn’t he already sitting up? He hadn’t really been paying attention. Magnus seemed to take his silence as assent and he felt his back leave the bed. The room spun and clearly he hadn’t been sitting up before because sitting up was a Very Bad Idea. He should stop doing it again, immediately.

“It’s okay. The vertigo will stop in a minute. Just hold on.”

Hold on to what? His hands were wrapped in the sheets, but he didn’t think they’d be very much use. He turned to look for where he’d been lying down, so he could get back there.

“Whoa there!”

He was quickly turned back the other way – oh, that was even worse, movement was – and came to rest on a warm surface. He closed his eyes, but the world kept spinning, so he burrowed into this warm space and tried to mentally hold onto things. He wasn’t sure that would work, but he hadn’t used to believe in telepathy either, so who knew?

“It’s okay. Just give it a minute, I promise.”

Promise. Well, Magnus kept promises. At least, he thought she did. Thoughts were fuzzy, too. The world seemed less spinney now, though. Kind of. Just fragile. Was that a clatter? Should he get away?

“It’s just a tray. It’s okay.”

She seemed to be saying that a lot. Maybe.

“Sure this is a good idea?”

This was a new voice. Gruff, deep; he recognized it somehow. Where did he know that voice from? And why was thinking like swimming in molasses?

“If you’d ever tried to get medicine into him fully awake, you wouldn’t ask that question.”

“This will be easier?”

“In a way, infinitely.”

“Hm.”

The gruff voice moved away and he felt a touch on his chin again.

“Will, can you hear me?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Good enough. I need you to… swallow some things for me. Okay?”

Swallow? He tried experimentally. Dry, but doable. He could do this task.

“’K”

There was a softer clattering noise as his warm space moved beneath him.

“Here, this should be the easiest to start. Could you look up, please?”

The ‘please’ was nice. Finding up was difficult, though. Not like swallowing.

“Over here, Will.”

A pressure on his chin turned him towards the light again. He hoped the spinning wouldn’t begin all over again. A pinkish blur arrived before his eyes.

“Can you hold… no, probably not. Open up.”

He opened his mouth and was overwhelmed with the worst taste imaginable. Dead things smelled better, he was sure, though he couldn’t remember why he was so certain.

“No, don’t spit it back out. Swallow. Quickly!”

Magnus knew what to do, he reminded himself, as the foul stuff slithered down his throat. At least she had better. Dreadful task complete, he tried to turn away from the lights again.

“Not quite yet. Here, this is nice, I promise. Just water.”

Water would be good. His mouth was both dry and disgusting now. Oh, and it was nice, just as advertised. Cool. Almost got rid of the lingering taste of death. Now if she would just let him hold onto the cup… oh, excellent. Mine, all mine. Oh no, what was she getting now?

“Don’t look so worried. It’s just two pills. Small. No flavor at all.”

He was unconvinced.

“You can take them with the water.”

Was she… wheedling? Another good word. He was awesome at this game. Wait, what had she said about water?

“Water?”

“Yes. Here, open your mouth. Now, take a drink.”

Okay, now he had something stuck in his throat. Great. At least it didn’t taste like death. And he could drink more water.   
It tasted so much better than usual. And… it was gone. Was there a hole in the cup?

“Let me just set that down for you.”

Now the cup was gone, too. Did that mean nothing else nasty was on the way?

“Done?”

“Yes. Thank you for making that easy.”

Well, that was his job. Maybe. Something like that. Magnus moved away, taking the clattering thing with her. He was fairly proud that he managed to continue sitting up; the water had clearly given him super powers. It also left him pretty awake and he carefully turned his head to peer at the blurry surroundings. A whole lot of white. Not very exciting. He turned back when Magnus approached again.

“Are you tired?”

Wow, he had just been thinking about not being tired. Was she telepathic?

“No.”

“Hm. It’ll kick back in soon. But…”

She trailed off and stood in silence. Had something happened? He cautiously looked around. Nope. Everything was still blurry and white. Silver bits sporadically. Magnus moved closer and he refocused, so to speak.

“I’m fairly certain that this is unethical. Or at least unfair. As my usual conscience is heavily drugged at the moment, though, he’ll have to yell at me later.”

He blinked. Nope. Still made no sense.

“What?”

“Nothing. Will, I need to ask you a few questions.”

 

 

Magnus was very warm and smelled like antiseptic and the powder the gloves gave off and, inexplicably, lilacs. After her statement about asking some questions, he had nodded – of course he would answer whatever she wanted – and she had stepped in to catch him before he nodded his way onto the floor. At which point he had remembered how lovely his warm space had been before the nasty stuff and burrowed back into her shoulder. There had been a few moments of confusion on her part, which he didn’t really understand because she was going to be here asking him questions anyway, before she’d rearranged herself onto the edge of the cot. He felt safe. It was nice.

“’S nice.”

“What? Ah. Well, good.”

Good. No, it wasn’t. He just couldn’t remember why, but he wasn’t supposed to do this. Feel nice or something.

“No.”

“No? No what?”

“Bad.”

There, now it was clear. He hoped that just because it wasn’t good didn’t mean that he had to leave, though. Even if he should.

“Bad? What… why is it bad, Will?”

She sounded confused. Maybe she couldn’t remember why it was bad, either. He was supposed to have answers for her, though. He needed to remember. Something about things dropping or bending or something.

“Lowers things.”

Maybe that would make her remember and she could tell him.

“Lowers things?”

Or maybe not.

“Things. Things should be up. Between.”

Between what? He knew there was a word, he just couldn’t think of it, which was so very frustrating.

“Safe things.”

That was the best he could manage. She was going to have to remember on her own after that.

“Safe things.”

She was still repeating him, but at least it was a statement this time.

“Do you mean… does it lower your guard, Will?”

It wasn’t quite right still, but she remembered better than he did. Guard. That was a good word. He wished he had thought   
of it, but he could be a good sport.

“Good word.”

“Ah, yes. Thank you.”

“Welcome.”

Magnus laughed. Wasn’t he supposed to say that? He thought you always said that after thank you. Oh well, it was nice to   
hear her laugh. She didn’t do that often enough.

“Hm. That explains a few things, if that always works.”

Did what always work? The lowering? He thought about standing on the other side of something when he tried to hide a slight injury and making sure he couldn’t be found when this life became too much even though he’d been searching for it forever. Oh yes, it always worked.

“Yes.”

“What? Oh. Right. That’s good.”

He thought she’d gotten this by now.

“No.”

She laughed again. He must be doing something right.

“Alright, maybe not good for you.”

Now she had it. Maybe he could just float in the warmth for awhile.

“Will, I need to ask you some questions.”

Hadn’t she just been doing that?

“Did.”

“A few more questions, then.”

So, no to floating then. Darn.

“Are you okay? Can you answer my questions? Do you want to go to sleep?”

He could float instead of sleep; that would be nice. But he had to answer Magnus’ questions. It was his job to help her. He remembered that much.

“No. Help.”

“Help? What’s the matter?”

Now she sounded frantic. Didn’t she want his help? Her hand left his face and began running over him.

“Help you.”

“Help… oh. I see. You gave me a fright, there.”

A fright? What did he do?

“Sorry?”

“No, Will. You’re fine. It’s okay.”

Magnus paused and her hand began to card through his hair. If she wasn’t going to need his help, after all, he could   
definitely float now.

“Why… no, too vague for him.”

There was a longer pause. Had she changed her mind?

“Why did you not tell me your knee was hurt?”

His knee was hurt? Yes, now he remembered. He had injured it when the man in the super suit clothes-lined him. Walter. And when Nomad shoved him into the ground. And lots of times. His poor knee. When did she mean? This was an awfully hard question.

“Which time?”

There was a long silence. The arm around his back tightened until he squirmed to get away from the pressure. It loosened and Magnus whispered ‘sorry’ very softly.

“Today,” her voice seemed rougher than it had before, “You hurt it today when Mr. Piers turned that weapon on you. Do you remember?”

He remembered the wall pretty darn vividly.

“Yes. Hurt.”

“Yes, you were. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Why? Magnus never asked easy questions. Not fair at all. His knee had been hurt. Okay, he remembered that. But he had a plan? A bandage?

“Bandage.”

Hopefully he’d got the answer right.

“Bandage… you were going to bandage it? Is that correct?”

He had gotten it right. Good.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

She seemed confused again. But this was an easy question.

“’Ways do.”

“’Ways… because you always do? But why?”

Magnus sure had a lot of ‘whys’ saved up. He exhaled loudly. Why? She seemed to sense his frustration.

“What would be… bad if I bandaged it, instead?”

At least this was a ‘what.’ What would be bad. He couldn’t remember right now. It all seemed so far away. It was to do   
with strength and fear and loss and trust and he didn’t know a word that described all of that anyway. He shifted restlessly and tried to think of a word. He was going to fail this question.

“Shh. It’s okay. You don’t have to answer that. Calm down. You’re safe. You don’t have to answer that question.”

But he did, because this was Magnus and he was supposed to have answers for her. What would be bad?

“Leave.”

“Leave?” There was a quick intake of breath above him, “You want me… Wait. Is that your answer?”

He nodded, bumping his forehead against her shoulder. Maybe he wasn’t so good at this game; he couldn’t even say any words   
right now.

“Who would leave, Will?” her voice sounded funny now, cautious. Who? That was an easy question, but he still couldn’t find any words that he wanted to say. Magnus paused for a long while. He settled back into her shoulder and breathed deeply, trying to imbed lilac into his lungs.

“Will. Do you trust me?”

Trust her? This was Magnus. He’d jumped off a cliff into death for her. He could answer that question.

“’Course,” he managed to make it sound insulted even. He was quite proud of that.

“Sorry. Silly question.”

It had been.

“Yes.”

She snorted. Had he ever heard Magnus snort before? She always seemed too dignified.

“Well, then, do you trust me as a doctor?”

As a doctor? Did she even have to ask that? Magnus had been a doctor since real leeches, not just sentient ones, were   
prescribed.

“Yes. Lots’ practice.”

Another laugh. This must be a good day for her.

“A century will do that. So it’s not my skills you question. That’s good news.”

He ran that through his head again. It didn’t sound like there was a question in there. Maybe he didn’t have to answer. Just in case, he made an agreeable sound. Cover all his bases; he was good at that.

“You don’t enjoy pain, so that can’t be it, and I’ve never noticed any suicidal tendencies,” the arm around him tightened   
again as Magnus muttered so low he could barely hear her and the words threatened to settle into a blur of white noise, “Though if you thought I watched you closely before… but I don’t think so. It doesn’t fit. It does involve trust somewhere; your reactions make no sense otherwise. I suspect…”

Her voice fell off and he thought maybe this was the point where he was supposed to give her an answer, but he really had no idea where the question came in at.

“Wha’?”

Maybe she wouldn’t mind saying it again; she wouldn’t get mad, right?

“Nothing, Will. It’s alright. No more questions. I think I have a good idea what this is about, anyway. I’ve just grown accustomed to my sounding board and it’s a hard habit to break.”

The world was moving further away, he was surrounded by lilacs and Magnus, and he had completely lost track of whatever was going on out there. He latched on to her last word.

“Break?”

Magnus began to speak, then stopped.

“No, Will,” she finally stated softly, as he began to float away, “Nothing’s broken.”


	5. A Few New Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing and profit none.

The first thing he was aware of was the fog clinging to every corner of his mind. The second was the splitting headache duking it out with the fog. Whoever won in this contest would surely not be him. He struggled for consciousness as he tried to remember why he would have been drugged. That he had been drugged was obvious – nothing else brought a similar feeling – but the ‘why’ was eluding him somewhat. He could hear a voice above him somewhere. Magnus. Some of his tension unwound; at least he wasn’t in enemy hands. Was it a mission gone wrong? And what was that beeping sound? A sinking sensation began in his stomach, as though his body was remembering something that the rest of him had yet to catch up to, which made him wonder if he wanted to catch up, anyway. The fog was shifting now, however, even if he wanted to hide behind it a while longer, and his memories began slinking sheepishly back into his mind. Whatever happened had to be less unsettling than only suspecting something has happened. A conclusion which prompted a frantic combing through his fuzzy memories for what could possibly have led him to the dungeons. A task that would be easier without that damn beeping. What was that? Coming from right behind him and increasing in tempo and annoying as…

“Hell.”

Perfect timing. And wasn’t it fitting that this was the first thing he heard? Now if he could just convince his eyes to join the party and open, he’d be back in business.

“Will, calm down. I have no qualms about drugging you halfway to Lisbon again.”

Well, that answered the how at least, if not the why of the circumstances that led to him currently doing battle with his own brain. As threats go, it was also fairly effective, and he managed to master his eyelids and blink up at Magnus’ familiar, if blurry, face.

“Lisbon?” he croaked. Or attempted to, at least.

A soft laugh answered him, “As I recall, you weren’t exceptionally fond of that trip.”

The glaringly white infirmary snapped into focus as his glasses were settled onto his nose. He smiled up at the glasses-bringer wryly, adding, “Less the trip, more the crazed scientist dragging me across half the countryside with a tent.”

“We found her, though,” Magnus stated, as though that is all that could possibly matter.

“We also found quite a few other things that were less fond of us,” he snarked, “That bear-thing that chased me up a tree is particularly memorable.”

“I still don’t understand that,” she mused, “or what you could have done to provoke it so badly. Normally, they are quite…”

“You are no longer allowed to use the word ‘docile,’” he interrupted hoarsely, “The line has to be drawn somewhere and bear-things are it.”

“Interesting boundary line,” was the only response. That and a grin, a prize he always worked so hard to provoke. He huffed a laugh, which caught in his chest and brought on a bout of coughing. Sitting up would probably help with the whole breathing thing, he decided muzzily, and attempted to rise. What was stabbing him in the side?

“Careful!” Magnus’ arm wrapped around his back, taking his weight while she shifted pillows to prop him up, “You’ve got a cracked rib. And an impressive array of bruises.”

That sounded familiar somehow. He focused on the memories begrudgingly permitting him access as Magnus finished her   
pillow architecture. Done, she withdrew slightly, but he knew he should draw further away; her hand was still cupped around his shoulder. The pieces were slowly beginning to fall into place, though, and knowledge was always more important. And he was really good at building excuses to avoid how hard it was to pull away from her. Great.

“The ruffians,” he muttered, more to distract his own thoughts than anything; he didn’t really need her sound of agreement to corroborate his memories, “Damn wall. But why did you drug me?”

Damnit, his query was supposed to be level and considered. A serious question, promising repercussions. The steady weight on his shoulder turned it annoying plaintive. Awesome, drugged and pathetic.

There was a sigh from beside him and a pause, before he got a response, “This really isn’t the time, Will. It’s the middle of the night; you should try to get some more rest.”

Well, time for it or not, he wanted some answers. Wait, middle of the night?

“You’ve been asleep for awhile,” and either she could now answer his thoughts or he’d said that last bit out loud. Hopefully the latter, a telepathic Magnus was a frightening thought.

“If by ‘asleep’ you mean ‘knocked out with drugs,’ then I’ll agree with your assessment,” he grumbled, leaning away from her hand “How much did you give me, anyway?”

“The drugs wore off a while ago, Will,” now her voice was terse, “Your body simply took the opportunity provided to get some much-needed sleep,” her arm circled his shoulders again as she pulled him gently back towards the pillows, “A sign that you should be resting now.”

“I remember coming back,” he mused, leaning back, but ignoring her heavy-handed hint and the hand that came to rest on his shoulder again, “The debrief. Meeting with the ruffians,” both such fun activities with Magnus all but handcuffing him to her side, “We… came here?” His memories were vague beyond this point, but becoming somewhat clearer as he focused on retrieving them. “Weren’t we talking? Yes, and then you drugged me!” He heard the beeping pick up tempo again behind him. What was that?

“It was necessary,” Magnus snapped, “and I’ll do it again if you do not calm down.” Her voice softened again, “Stop thinking for a minute and just breathe. Your heart rate needs to stay low and it’s climbing again.”

Heart rate. That explained the beeping; she’d hooked him up to a monitor.

“Why… what happened?” he asked, concerned. He tried to avoid thinking about his heart most days. It led to Kali, which led to a million other thoughts, none of which were very pleasant and no few of which involved the whole him-dying-thing. So, not a happy thought trail. Think about something else, he sternly ordered himself. Like, if Magnus is planning on answering your question. She had been quiet for an awfully long time.

“Get your heart rate down to a normal level,” she finally said, slowly, as though not sure that she should be saying it at all, “and I’ll tell you.”

If Magnus was sinking to bribing him, he probably really ought to concentrate on breathing for a while. And then mercilessly take her up on that bribe. He hadn’t been with Magnus this long without learning that if you missed an opportunity once, it didn’t always come around again. So, breathing. He’d never been great at meditation, but he knew the principle of controlled breathing as well as any psychologist. Deep breath in and hold. Count. Exhale. Repeat. It always made him a little dizzy, but he could hear the beeping slow down to a more sedate pace, which mattered more at the moment. Surely this had gone on long enough to please Magnus? He opened his eyes to glance at her, catching her watching him with a difficult expression. Not quite worry. He couldn’t catalogue it before she shifted to glance back at the monitor.

“Much better,” she commented softly.

“Now, what happened?” he kept his voice soft as well, hoping his heart would follow suit. Damn thing had a mind of its own most days, he would swear.

She looked back over to him with a gaze he could easily identify as ‘not thrilled’, “You really ought to be sleeping.”

He kept quiet. She hadn’t said that she would make him sleep or that she wouldn’t answer; she was just stating her objection for the record. If he didn’t react, he was pretty sure she would move on to the good bit.

“We did come down here, yes,” she continued, much to his relief. At least his ability to read her hadn’t gone haywire with the drugs, “and we were discussing your injuries from the ruffians. Do you remember that?”

Somewhat. If he concentrated. Mainly, he remembered being really worried about something. He nodded.

“Right,” she paused and let go of his shoulder, moving around in front of him so that he could see her easily. He looked up at her, startled, and held the assessing blue gaze firmly. She placed a hand on his knee and continued, “You wouldn’t tell me about your injuries. I trust you remember that?”

The fact that she was taking such small steps up to the part where he got drugged did not reassure him that he would like what was coming next. Also, if that wasn’t a pointed question, he had never encountered one before. An outright lie probably wouldn’t work, but he hadn’t been trying to worry her or anything, it just didn’t justify her time. He was fine and would have been even without this pleasant little interlude. He felt fingers tapping his knee and, no, he probably shouldn’t phrase it quite like that.

“It’s not that I wouldn’t,” he clarified, giving Magnus his best ‘very rational and serious’ look, “it’s just that I didn’t feel that I should pull you away from our new guests right now. I know I should have just said that, but you kept insisting my injuries wouldn’t wait until later when they really could have done.”

“My old friend took charge of the ruffian’s ill-gotten shipment and they are settling in fine, Will,” the tapping on his knee stopped with one final soft pat and he suddenly realized that he was wearing a hospital issue night shirt. When had that happened? Magnus’ insistent voice brought him back to her words, “They were handled gently in transit, no doubt because of their value, and suffered no shocks to their systems. Something,” she said with a twist of her   
lips, “that could not be said of you, tonight.”

He really, really wanted to say that it was just a wall, but managed to hold his tongue in time. Exploding Magnus was not a thing he wanted to deal with tonight. Even if it was just a lousy wall, coming from someone who had purposely infected her brain with a freaky drug-secreting parasite in the past. Double standard, much?

“In any case,” she continued, when it became clear that he wasn’t going to respond, “we were discussing your reticence when you began to panic,” she paused and her voice lowered, “and continued to panic.”

“So you drugged me,” he stated flatly. Was that even the proscribed treatment for a panic attack?

“It was all I could do, Will,” she said, her voice level, but at full volume again, “I would talk you out of one attack only to have you go into another. The heart can only handle that stress for so long. Particularly yours.”

“My heart is fine!” he bit back angrily, scarcely heeding the increased beeping behind him, “And my injuries would have been, too. This was completely unnecessary!”

“Hush,” Magnus said, eyes riveted behind his head. Her hand came up to cup the back of his head, startling him out of his next statement. Just as well, he considered, as telling your boss your opinion of her interference probably wasn’t a great way to stay employed. Or, with Helen Magnus, in one piece. Her thumb began carding through his hair as the beeps decreased in frequency. Oh right, heart monitor. Great. He sighed and her eyes dropped down to look at him.

“I didn’t mean to deal with this tonight,” she said regretfully.

“There’s nothing to ‘deal with,’ Magnus,” he said, as calmly as he could manage, “I’m sorry for the panic, but I am fine.”

“Then why?” she shot back, eyes fierce on his face, which furrowed in confusion. Why what? “If you are fine, why did you panic?” she clarified, reading his expression.

“Because,” he began, only to pause. Why did he panic? He couldn’t remember the exact conversation yet, but the feelings were coming back. He had felt… trapped. Pinned. Okay, that was definitely what caused the panic, he could feel it niggling at his chest even now, but why? She had been pressing, hadn’t she? No, she hadn’t been demanding answers, he realized, so much as acting like she already had them all. So it was already too late, came his next thought, and the sinking feeling in his stomach yawed into a chasm. And the damned beeping sped up again.

“Will,” Magnus began, moving closer to him, pressure increasing on his knee and the back of his neck.

“You’re right,” he interrupted, scooting back down in the bed and - not incidentally - away from her hands, “I am tired. Middle of the night. What’s the time, anyway?”

She paused and he mentally pleaded, Just let me get away with this right now, Magnus, before she responded softly, “Just after two. You should get some more rest.”

He nodded in assent and, he hoped, managed to make it look accidental that he turned on his side away from her as she began to reach for him again. He didn’t expect to sleep, but he could use some time to think, time without interference would be even better. That was his last conscious thought.

 

Waking up the second time was much more abrupt. Fog had something to be said for it, he considered, slammed into awareness from some shadowy dream so abruptly that it left him slightly dizzy. At least he was alone, though even as he surveyed the glaringly clean room with satisfaction, he knew Magnus wouldn’t be far. Not after their last conversation. Probably in the lab next door. Okay, he told himself, Self, you need to step up a little here. You’re thinking clearly, it’s not the middle of the night, quit flying off the handle. Be professional. And for pity’s sake make it out of the infirmary! With this last injunction, he looked up to watch Magnus glide into the room. Yeah, definitely the lab next door.

“How are you feeling?” he would give quite a lot to not have to hear that question again for quite some time.

“Much better, thank you,” he said with a smile, “A good night’s sleep is vastly underrated. If I already asked you what the result of the wall collision was, I’m afraid that I’ve forgotten the answer. Would you tell me again?” It was always better to be on the offensive.

“You hadn’t, actually,” Magnus said, a cool gaze upon him that he met with a bland smile, “Why don’t you tell me what hurts now?” And I’ll see what you leave out. He had no problem finishing that sentence mentally. A test. Great.

“Well nothing precisely hurts,” he began with a smile. Gotta keep up her faith in that pain threshold, “but my knee is uncomfortable. Um, my ribs, left side. Upper back, I’m guessing some scratches? Kind of itch.” He was pretty good otherwise. He was pretty good even with those, but he did want to leave the dungeon at some point, “General ache, bruises probably. How am I doing?” Yet another grin. His face was going to hurt into the bargain before his escape at this rate.

“Quite right,” Magnus said, “Pity you didn’t just tell me this yesterday.”

Crap.

“I wasn’t kidding about the benefits of sleep,” he joked, “I’m much less crazy today.”

“Crazy?” she leveled a disapproving glance at him.

“Scientific term,” he quipped, “I’m all about the science.”

Ha. That got a smile. Half-hearted, but well on his way to freedom.

“And what precisely is encompassed within the term ‘crazy’?”

“Panic attacks,” might as well get those out of the way. What else would she want an explanation for? “A desire to find a bed and sleep that overrides the need for medical care,” he wasn’t sure she would buy that one, but it was worth a shot. He waited until she looked as though she was going to speak before he threw in his last caveat, “Bizarre craving for strawberry shortcake.”

She blinked and closed her eyes, while her lips teased into an involuntary grin. Total win!

“Strawberry shortcake?” she repeated.

“It’s a problem,” he said solemnly, “Seeing as how it’s not strawberry season.”

“Quite the tragedy,” she agreed with equal sincerity, “Should I ask Henry to ensure that you don’t book a flight for   
warmer climes?”

“I think a night’s sleep took care of things,” he said with a nod, thrilled that she was playing along. It boded well for him, “But I appreciate the thought.”

“Well, I can hardly have an employee escaping to Florida,” Magnus said, sitting on the edge of the bed with a friendly smile, “Just think how that would look.”

He smiled back unreservedly. If he wasn’t in the dungeon, this repartee would have made his day; it was hard sometimes to get Magnus to unbend enough to engage in anything remotely resembling fun. And, heaven knew, if any of them needed to relax it was their tightly wound boss. He had made it a personal mission to hunt her down daily and try to force a bit of levity into her life, but she did not make it an easy task. So on the one hand, mission accomplished for today, on the other they were in the infirmary. Did this count as a win?

“Now, I just need to check and see how you’re healing before you can escape,” she continued. He startled. ‘Escape?’ He really, really hoped she was not telepathic. As she reached for the blanket, his grip tightened involuntarily.

“Really?” he asked, ready to defend his current state of health until he caught the serious look she leveled at him as she paused mid-motion. Another test. Great, “I’m feeling a little sore, but pretty good otherwise. Still, whatever you say.” he let go of the blanket with his best attempt at a devil-may-care attitude. In a perfect world, his actions would have convinced her and two seconds later would see him waltzing out the door. It had worked in the past. The world today, however, was clearly not perfect and Magnus stripped the blanket off of him with startling rapidity.

“Your knee is my primary concern,” Magnus began as she manipulated the joint in question, “I couldn’t detect any tears, but the current swelling might be masking a more serious injury,” Apparently satisfied for the moment, she looked over at him, “I have a brace for it, that you will leave on for at least a week, Will.”

He hated braces; awkward, ungainly things that they were. How did she know this? She clearly did, as she was awaiting a response to her order with a take-no-prisoners look in her eye.

“Right.”

Obviously unconvinced, she straightened, leaning one hip against the bed, “Brace over your trousers, if you please. And stay off of the leg as much as possible. Once the swelling has gone down, I’ll see how to proceed from there.”  
With a final ‘or else’ look, Magnus turned the subject, “Now I need to check your ribs.”

He looked down at the night shirt enveloping him shoulder to calf, “Ah.”

One awkward interlude later, during which he realized that leaning on his leg was vetoed by Magnus and that leaning on his left arm was vetoed by his ribs, which left him to resort to leaning on Magnus while thanking heaven that he was still in his boxers, they had both freed the night shirt twisted around his legs.

“Of course, you do realize a few things will have to change,” she said calmly, while he swore she was playing Chopin’s Nocturne in B Flat Minor on his cracked rib. Magnus would choose when he was most off balance to attack.

“I’m… what?” he managed, while trying not to wince. Not his best effort, but what was she doing, trying to make one cracked rib into two?

“Well, apart from desiring a warning should you make a bolt for strawberry fields, I do believe your definition included the ‘desire to find a bed and sleep that overrides the need for medical care’,” and of course she would remember that phrase, word for word.

“It was a joke, Magnus,” he wheezed.

“Hm,” she hummed in agreement, “And yet, here we are.”

There was really no response he could make to that, so he settled for not whimpering, a field where he might have some   
hope of success, until she was done retaping his side. After she handed him a pillow to lean against and requested that he lean forward so she could take a look at his cuts, she resumed. Of course.

“I’m tempted to take you off of field duty,” she plunged blithely in and, before he could register a complaint, continued, “but I don’t believe that would serve any of us very well in the long run. So you’ll stay on the active list, provided you comply with a few new rules.”

He so very much did not want to know what those were. In an attempt to express his disinterest, he pointedly Did Not Ask, as though that might stop Magnus.

“No solo missions,” she rattled off, probing deeply into a cut that he could no longer feel over the tightness gripping his chest, “On group missions, you’re with me. After every mission, you’re here. Until I say otherwise.”

He distantly felt her hands smearing something cold over his back and rebandaging what he assumed were the worst of the cuts. It didn’t register very well, which he vaguely thought should probably concern him more. He was brought back to earth by the weight of Magnus’ arm around his shoulders and her hair tickling his ear where she was leaning over his shoulder to speak.

“You can lean back now,” she spoke softly, as though she hadn’t just finished laying down the law to him. He blindly followed her motions that guided him back onto the pillows behind him before he completely regained his senses. By then, she was ensconced at his hip again, on hand cupping his injured knee and eyes steady on him. He shook his head and made to swing his legs over the opposite side of the cot.

“Well, I guess I’m all in one piece, right? I should go make inroads into my desk.”

Her hand didn’t move, restraining his action.

“I’m sorry, Will,” Magnus said, and he believed her as he looked up into her face. That expression was back in her eyes; not pity, he would have left a dust trail at that emotion, more like… sympathy. And something else. “But I need to know that you heard me. And will abide by the rules. If you prefer, I can just take you off of the active list.”

“No,” he stated without conscious thought. Anything was better than waiting here, feeling useless, “It’s fine. I heard.”

“And?” she prompted, not relinquishing her hold.

“And?” he paused, confused. And what? He was thrilled? He was trying to find a loophole? He was seriously considering those strawberry fields?

Magnus sighed, “And you’ll obey, Will.”

Oh. That ‘and.’ “Right. Yes. I will.”

“See that you do,” she let go of his leg and he wasted no time getting to his feet. He was already starting down the hall when she caught up to him.

“You forgot something,” she answered his questioning gaze, holding up a brace.

“Oh,” he said, reaching for the brace, “Sorry.”

She didn’t hand it over, instead sliding her arm through his outstretched one, “I was heading up anyway,” she said, leading him into the elevator.

For the first time in a very long while, perhaps ever, he didn’t know what to say to Magnus during the elevator journey. After they started moving, she spoke instead.

“After all, I need to make sure you don’t bypass your room and head for the Gulf.”

He tried to smile, though he was fairly certain it wasn’t a resounding success, “What, dressed like this? I’d at least need pants.”

“You might attract some attention otherwise,” she conceded, “Though you’d attract more when we came to drag you back onto a plane in swimming attire.”

“Clutching strawberries?” his smile felt a little more natural as they stepped off of the elevator, “That’s not very sensible. You know I’d come back after I’d run through this year’s crop, anyway.”

They stopped before his door and Magnus handed over the brace after retrieving her arm. And when had he started leaning on it? She placed a hand on his forearm and squeezed before letting go and taking a step back.

“Maybe we don’t want to do without you for that long,” she said and turned to head towards her own room further down   
the hall.

He stood in the hallway for a long while after she had turned the corner, eyes focused on nothing and far away.


	6. A Peacful Interlude

For lack of any better idea, he wound up in his office a few hours later. A shower and some alone time to decompress had helped his thought process to a certain extent, but when he began replaying the events of last night on a constant loop in his head, throwing in the towel and looking for something to drown out his own thoughts became his only option.

Now that he was here, he had to admit that finding his desk would be a good thing, too.

“Uh, Will?”

At the hesitant question, he peered around the desk. An awkward angle from his seat on the floor, to be sure, but it was the only position he had found to be remotely comfortable. Ah, Henry.

“Down here.”

“Oh,” Henry rounded the desk to stare down at him with slight confusion, “Should I ask?”

“It seemed convenient at the time,” he shrugged, “What’s up?”

“Dinner.”

He looked up at the short answer, to see if more was forthcoming. Huh, Henry didn’t know about the Infirmary Crackdown, that was a good sign. He had also been working in the lower lab, stopped reluctantly to process intake on an arrival with blue fur and a tail - probably the one they had picked up in the Amazon, and lunch had been a sandwich - ham? - which hadn’t settled well. He closed his eyes and turned back to the mess of files heaped on the floor. The only problem with turning all of his senses outward to escape his own thoughts was seeing more than he really wanted to know.

“You coming?”

“Ah,” he debated the awkwardness of facing Magnus and picking up on Kate’s current schemes against the potential likelihood of Magnus coming to drag him to dinner. She wasn’t likely to show up, preferring group dinners wasn’t the same as demanding them, and he really did not feel equipped to deal with anyone tonight. “Nah, I think they’ll breed if I turn my back on them,” he said gesturing to the reams of paper.

“That’s a valid concern,” Henry admitted, eyeing the floor, “Dude, how far behind are you, anyway?”

“Far enough,” he offered with a rueful smile, which wasn’t precisely true. He had started off just finishing and filing his backlog, but once that was done, he had realized that a new system would be much more efficient. Of course, his brilliant idea had neglected to inform him what a pain it would be to re-catalog every case and all the research he possessed. Thank heavens he had only been here a few years. What did Magnus do when she wanted to reorganize? Disappear for a year?

“Well, good luck,” Henry waved as he headed for the door, “I’ll try and save you something.”

“Thanks,” he shouted after him, before turning to his task once more, “Alright files, you will not be the boulder to my Sisyphus. Prepare to be organized.”

 

“There you are,” were the first words he heard after stepping through the infirmary doors, “I was beginning to wonder if your files had turned on you.”

“I take it you’ve talked to Henry,” he smiled at Magnus as he limped towards the examining table.

“I believe he mentioned something about a ‘pod person’ over dinner last night,” she smiled in return while nudging a step over by the table to prevent him from straining ribs trying to hoist himself up, “Should I check for signs of that as well?”

“If I say ‘no’ will that increase your suspicions?” he replied, “Because that will make it even harder to accomplish my evil objectives.”

“And those would be what?” Magnus inquired idly as she slipped the brace off of his knee and began to pull up the leg of his soft sweat pants.

“You do realize that over half of my current backlog of files goes straight to you, right?”

She paused mid-motion.

“Exactly. Your desk will soon make mine look like a minimalist’s dream,” he smirked.

“Tell me, Dr. Zimmerman, do you think it wise to antagonize a doctor in a room full of scalpels?” Magnus mock-scowled down at him as she ran her fingers over his knee in a preliminary check.

“Wouldn’t you find it difficult to explain…” he trailed off, “What am I saying? They’d never find the body.”

Magnus gave him a smirk of her own, before turning back to his knee, “And don’t you forget it.”

“Have you…” he stopped himself mid-sentence. What was he doing? Magnus was hardly going to confide in him after, well, after everything. Noting the curious look she was giving him, he hastened to end his sentence innocuously, “reached a verdict yet?” He motioned towards his knee.

“It doesn’t appear to have worsened,” she conceded with another curious look, “No questions about where the bodies are buried?”

“Would you tell me?” he didn’t have to feign surprise. “Right now I have plausible deniability,” he finished triumphantly.

“Ah, good point,” Magnus said after a sharp pause, returning her eyes to his knee, “I might need you on a witness stand one day.”

 

He was beginning to suspect that all efforts in his office were recursive. He had finished his filing that first day – which had led to a new organizational system. And more work. Putting the new system in order over the past few days had led to a realization of the gaps in his current body of research – and more work. He was beginning to notice a theme.

“Will… what the hell? Did you annex the library?”

Kate. Of course. At least he was sitting at his desk for this invasion.

“Nah, just catching up on some research,” he closed the book to give her his full attention, “What’s up?”

“Just headed to the gym. Want to trade off spotting?”

“Can’t,” he gestured to his knee, which was at least coming in useful here considering how much of a pain it was normally, “Bum knee. I don’t even want to imagine the lecture Magnus would give us.”

“Right on,” Kate shrugged, “Guess I’ll see if I can drag Hank out of his man-cave.”

He tried not to snort at her description of Henry’s work space. It was so… accurate.

“There’s always the Big Guy,” he offered, “He’s a gym nut.”

“Yeah, but I always feel kinda bad spotting for him,” she admitted, “Like, what am I gonna do if something happens? His weights weigh more than I do.”

“You could at least call for help,” he offered, “It’s something.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Kate sounded unconvinced, “I think I’ll try Hank first. And, Will?” she continued, eyeing his admittedly cluttered office again, “When this stack over here falls down,” she pushed on a particularly wobbly collection of books with one finger, “try not to get crushed. I don’t want to have to dig through all this crap to find your body.”

“Thanks for the advice,” he called after her, “And your heartwarming concern.”

He shook his head with a short laugh as he turned back to find his place in the book before him. Locating it, he grimaced as he shifted his knee in an ill-advised manner. It was illogical, but he was convinced that his knee was refusing to heal faster because it was mad at him. Once a night, he hobbled down to the infirmary and let Magnus poke and prod him to her heart’s content, but all she said was that he was healing ‘adequately.’ Adequately? What did that even mean? She was giving his knee a ‘C’ for effort?

Letting the book shut again, he pushed away from the desk and leaned back. That wasn’t even touching on how she was treating him. Apart from his memory of the ultimatum and her insistence on the daily check-ups, she was acting downright normal. No mention of anything that had happened almost a week ago, the same banter they always shared, though his end was a little weaker than usual, even the same respect for his abilities, or at least so it seemed. Didn’t she have any questions?

He stopped himself mid-thought and frowned. Why was he complaining? If Magnus wanted to ignore this, that was just fine by him. No questions were good questions. No, he sighed as he picked up his pen to tap out an off-beat rhythm on the cover of his book: the problem was that he knew her too well. Of course she had questions; the real issue was when she would spring them on him. When was she going to stop pretending and attack?

Not attack. He quickly corrected his own thoughts. Just – corner him. The way Magnus always did when someone had information she wanted and she wasn’t prepared to take no for an answer. And then… he didn’t even know how to finish that thought. And then everything will change, his mind finished traitorously. He shoved himself out of his head with a firm shake. Okay, self, learn about the mating habits of weird snake-creatures in Brazil. That’s something you can actually handle. Wait, what is that? OH. Oh. Ew. Handle, huh? Hopefully never literally. Ever.

 

He would never admit to it, but he was glad to reach Magnus’ office after his hike through the halls. His knee was still twinging, though much less often and in a lower key, and a not-too-comfortable seat to remain awake in through the staff meeting was sounding nice. Seeing that the Big Guy has staked out one of the chairs and Kate was in possession of the couch, he decided against the other couch cushion and headed for the remaining Not-Magnus’ Chair. Leaving Henry to sit next to Kate was somewhat cruel, but she had the bad habit of smacking whoever was near her while making a point. Henry needed an object lesson in punctuality, he considered virtuously.

“How’s it going, gimpy?” Kate glanced at his knee as he sank into the chair with a sigh.

“Lamely,” he tried. Kate blinked before rolling her eyes and groaning loudly.

“Really?” she smacked the cushion next to herself, “You’re going with that?”

He grinned and snuck a glance over at the Big Guy. His hatred of puns was legendary. Yep, there was the Is-it-worth-getting-up-to-smack-him? look now. He was saved by Henry entering the room and eyeing the seat next to Kate with trepidation. No way would he risk getting up and accidentally giving up his seat.

“No hitting,” Henry warned as he flopped down on the couch.

“If you deserve it,” Kate shrugged, “who am I to get in the way of a life lesson?”

“All I do is sit here! How is that ‘deserving it’?”

“Learn to stay out of the way.”

Thankfully, Henry’s response was drowned out by Magnus’ entrance.

“Good. Everyone’s here on time.”

She took the remaining chair and opened her portfolio on her lap. Good behavior reigned for all of   
five minutes.

“If we bring them here, they’ll short out all of my systems!”

“Well, we can’t leave them at the holding facility any longer.” Kate shot back, “The manager wants   
them out pronto.”

“Yeah, and I wonder why that is!”

“Hey! It was an honest mistake! The file said nothing about keeping them away from water.”

“They’re electric! How much more…”

“Enough,” Magnus’ voice broke into the fray, “We need to move them out of the warehouse. Why can be discussed at a later time,” the latter statement included a pointed look at Kate, promising that ‘later’ would be ‘shortly’ and ‘with her,’ “For now, we need a safe location as clear as possible of any critical systems. Any suggestions?”

The conversation degenerated slightly at that point, with Henry voting for another warehousing situation and Kate claiming that there were a few rooms in the Sanctuary that could be sacrificed. He kept out of the fray, weighing his opinion. In-Sanctuary wasn’t his first choice, not with the possibility of an escape wiping out all of their shielding and protections. The creatures, though, sounded similar to a study he had been going over not long ago. If he remembered correctly, there had been some way of neutralizing the electrical impulses, but the exact details weren’t coming easily to his mind. “Do you have an opinion, Will?”

Magnus’ question brought him back to the meeting. He hesitated. It was only a vague remembrance, after all, and it could very well be a wild goose chase. Or whatever the abnormal equivalent of a goose was.

“Will?”

He turned to look at Magnus then, still undecided. Her eyes were assessing as she returned his gaze and she tilted her head in a pointedly please-share-with-the-class manner.

“Uh, I’m not sure in-house is a good idea,” he finally managed, “The thought of their escaping gives me Nubbins-flashbacks. Only ten times worse.”

Henry snorted, “There’s a positive thought. Now can we go with a new warehouse?”

“How about one on the west side this time?” Kate had apparently given in to the inevitable, “Driving through the center of town is a pain.”

He stared down at his hands. Even if everyone seemed fine with the warehouse plan, he felt worse than useless. Maybe after the meeting he could find that article. If he had proof to back up his idea, then he could take it to Magnus. Glancing up to contribute a warehouse suggestion, he realized that Magnus was still watching him, eyes now narrowed. Had she wanted him to agree with Kate, instead? No, he remembered after a moment of panic, she had asked Kate how they could be contained so as not to be a potential danger to other residents. Maybe she was thinking of something else while staring in his direction? He did that sometimes. Just in case, he gave her the best grin he could manage and concentrated on settling the new brewing argument across from him.

 

“Planning on leaving?”

“What?” he jerked his head up, startled, to eye the Big Guy who had appeared in his doorway by magic. How did someone that big move so quietly, anyway?

“Planning on leaving?” the Big Guy repeated with a slight grunt of exasperation.

“Ah, no,” he chuckled nervously, “Unless you know something I don’t?” He tried to make the question   
come off as a joke, but he was actually a bit concerned. Was he being packed off somewhere?

He knew his light-hearted attempt hadn’t worked when the Big Guy gave him a strange look. One that clearly said, ‘I-have-to-put-up-with-this?’ with a hint of ‘idiot’ as a chaser.

“Been in here a week,” he carefully clarified, stepping into the office.

Leaving his office. Oh, that made more sense. Except for how he was supposed to automatically make that connection.

“Just catching up on some research,” he said, glancing at the stacks of books that had invaded his surroundings and absently wondering when they had accumulated and how he was going to get them all back, “Long overdue, in fact.”

“Saw the files,” the Big Guy said, moving a stack of books to the floor from their precarious perch on a chair across the desk from him, and taking their place, “Bit by a bookworm?”

He started to laugh, but changed mid-chuckle to a cough. Who knew? With the Sanctuary, there might actually be bookworms lurking in the shelves. What would an abnormal bookworm do? It didn’t bear considering. “I don’t think so. I just couldn’t find my desk – and there wasn’t much else to do with my knee.”

“Hm,” was the response he garnered, and a short pause, before, “Still can’t see your desk.”

This time he did laugh. It was true; he had gone from one set of clutter to another. “I promise, there was a brief period of order. Once I take the books back, you’ll be amazed at how tidy it looks.”

This look he categorized as ‘disbelief’ with a shade of ‘I’ll-humor-him.’

“Good,” the Big Guy levered himself out of the chair and eyed the stack of books at his feet before leaving them on the floor, “Dinner.”

“Um,” his knee was doing well, at the week mark Magnus had permitted him to dispense with the brace provided he not overwork his knee, so that wasn’t an issue. He’d just started a new line of research, though, and he wasn’t sure he was up to Henry and Kate if the bickering he’d heard passing his office earlier was a preview of dinner. “I’m actually in the middle of something.”

He could tell from the set of the Big Guy’s eyebrows that this excuse wasn’t going to fly. The Sasquatch regularly talked Magnus into doing things against her will, how did he have a prayer? He gave in as gracefully as he could manage.

“But I suppose it can wait.”

 

Dinner was going about as well as he had anticipated. The Big Guy had commandeered the serving utensils, an act he only undertook when he thought someone wasn’t eating enough. From the pile of food facing him, he was clearly the one under scrutiny. They would manage to get the only seven foot tall, furry mother hen.

To add bad to worse, Henry and Kate had apparently decided to be the dinner entertainment and their performance in the hallway must have been a dress rehearsal. He moodily eyed the carrot he had speared onto the end of his fork. On a good day, one a few weeks ago perhaps, he would have groaningly protested the overfull plate before him, interfered in the joyfully petty quarrel being carried out beside him, and tried to drag Magnus into it all over her long-suffering looks. Now, he just wanted to leave.

He sighed and set the fork down; clearly, leaving mid-research made him grumpy. He would have to remember that in the future. It was strange that he hadn’t noticed it previously, actually, or perhaps he had simply forgotten? He frowned as he considered that thought. Had he been slacking off on his research since coming to the Sanctuary? Thinking back, he could distantly remember burying himself in books before arriving here, he had lived for long nights over the books back then. Literally being run over by Magnus had begun his immersion into the ‘learn on the fly and cram research into every waking hour’ portion of adapting to his new life. What had changed? And when?

A pointed throat-clearing brought his attention to the Big Guy, who was eyeing his discarded fork with displeasure. Before anyone else was distracted from the Kate and Henry Show, he quickly took a sip of water and picked the fork back up. He could eat and ruminate; he had skills.

After a deliberate bite of carrot, he returned to his line of thought. When had he stopped spending endless days in research? Slowly, as he half-heartedly plowed through a corner of his plate, he ran through the last two years in his mind. It had been gradual, he realized with a stunned sort of shock. So much so that even his deep-set need to analyze every aspect of his environment and actions had skipped right over it. In hindsight, however, it was painfully obvious. After the Battle of the Three Witches, as he had named it privately, Ashley had all but demanded he at least learn where the safety was located on a gun. Perhaps even how to turn it off. This had, obviously, led to shooting a gun. Then, he remembered fondly, they had decided to surprise Magnus by teaching him to actually be marginally competent with a weapon. Plus, he had begun to realize at that point, some weapons training might be a necessity if he wanted to survive very long in this fascinating – but dangerous – new world. Being attacked by weird skeleton creatures wanting to rip your arms off a few weeks into a new job was something of an alarming wake-up call.

So, training, that had taken time away from research. And missions, of course, were a necessary break from the books, not to mention Henry giving him the run through of the Sanctuary systems and Magnus introducing him to Sanctuary politics. Right, he accepted, eyeing his still full plate with trepidation and deciding to pick up his water glass instead, all perfectly logical. But then what happened?

He had acquired more patients, he remembered, resting the heavy bowl of the glass in his hand. An understandable excuse. The rest, however… he sighed. Once Henry had given him all the info that the tech geek thought he could handle without screwing something in the system up, the man had somehow managed to segue their time into other things, the video games he was so fond of or checking out an amazing restaurant Henry couldn’t believe he hadn’t tried before. Ashley was more focused, but when he expressed an interest in her – grittier contacts, he had suddenly found himself going on a never-ending guided tour of the seedier underbelly of Old City. Educational, certainly, but he was pretty sure that most work-related learning experiences didn’t involve the fine art of taking a shot so the guy over there doesn’t rip your head off and will instead teach you how to illegally harvest the eggs of an unidentifiable creature.

He set the glass back down and picked up his fork to return to the Plate of Insurmountable Proportions. So, he had abandoned his research for his colleagues. He could accept that reality, but why hadn’t he stopped himself? For pity’s sake, why hadn’t he even noticed? It had been… he mulled over his emotions for a moment as he chewed yet another tasteless mouthful. Nice. Yes. It had been nice, for once, to be around people who didn’t act surprised or scared or, hell, superior when he reacted to the details most people missed. Henry thought it was cool. Ashley had devoted entirely too much energy to figuring out how they could use it to cheat at pool. And poker. And darts. And taking shots. And pretty much everything they did. But Ashley had died, he reminded himself, fork suspended in the mashed potatoes, and Kate had taken his ‘freaky eye thing’ in stride, pushing him to try racing motorcycles and mixing his liquors.

He gave up on the plate, nabbing a roll and shredding it to buy his stomach some time. Fine, he could see how he had gotten here, to this person who had to be reminded to turn in all of his paperwork. That didn’t mean he had to stay that person. He had made some positive steps: getting his files up to date and reorganized, stepping back into research. All good things; now he just had to keep going and not let himself backslide into an inefficient slug. Surviving dinner should also be a goal on that list, he considered, wondering if it was ill-omened to wish for some sort of emergency that might save him from his own plate.

Suddenly, Henry’s tablet, never far from him, emitted a bizarre squealing noise, which attracted not only Henry’s attention mid-argument, but also everyone else’s at the table as well. Ill-omened or not, clearly wishing worked better than he’d expected. Henry snatched the tablet up and got busy with the stylus for a minute, looking up to find a dining room full of people watching his every move with curiosity.

“Alarm,” Henry explained as he reddened, “It hits a frequency that… well, anyway. Ahem,” he hurriedly turned back to the tablet, “We’ve got a problem, Doc. East of here, in the warehouse district.”

“There’s a shocker,” Kate mumbled.

“Something’s tearing up the place,” Henry continued, oblivious.

“How can you tell?” continued the sotto voce commentary.

“What is the situation?” Magnus asked in a quelling tone.

“Hard to tell,” Henry said, stylus busy, “CCTV is crap. Whatever it is, it’s dark. And fast. Whoa!” he said in response to an image, “Really freakin’ fast!”

“Noted,” Magnus turned towards the rest of the table, “With so few details, be on your guard for anything. Try to stun only, it could simply be confused. Kate, you two,” she said with a nod towards the Big Guy, “will cover the eastern portion. Henry, monitor and coordinate from the van,” as Magnus rose, she looked him in the eye directly, “Will, you’re with me; we’ll take the western half. Everyone, meet in fifteen minutes.”


	7. A Sticky Situation

He was trying to look on the positive side of things; a difficult position, but one he was clinging to with a desperate grip. One good thing was that Magnus was no longer hovering in front of him as she hadn’t since his first weeks in-Sanctuary, back when he hadn’t had such great practice in ducking. Although, that didn’t seem to have stood him in good stead today; but that wasn’t a positive thought, he had to get back on track. They had caught the abnormal, that was good, one who had turned out to be quite pleasant once returned to a close approximation of his native habitat. He had to admit that the experience of having his eyes seared by an over-exposure to light would probably make him testy as well.

“Don’t sit down yet!” came a yell from behind him as he started to step up into the van. He turned to find Kate approaching, “Let me put towels down or something. Otherwise you two will stick to the   
van and we’ll never get you out again.”

Positivism was not working.

While Kate tossed things about inside, looking for enough cloth to keep them away from a future as van fixtures, he walked around to the back of the van where Magnus was messing with Petri dishes and test tubes. After watching for a moment, he dared to pose a question.

“Do you think water will take this off or will we have to break out the steel wool?”

Magnus looked over from scraping the substance off of her arm with a scalpel to answer with a resigned smile, “It might take some effort, but it should wash off. I’m simply preserving some beforehand to get a better idea of our new friend’s capabilities.”

“Not to sound petty, but I’ll feel a lot friendlier towards our new friend once I’m no longer in danger of becoming permanently attached to our surroundings.”

“An ingenious protective mechanism, though,” Magnus said, beginning to latch the sample equipment back together, “I should never have thought of literally gluing one’s opponent in place.”

He had a few other words to describe the ‘protective mechanism’ and none of them came close to ‘ingenious.’ Luckily, before he could suggest any of them, Kate popped her head over the back seat.

“Okay, you guys should be safe to enter now,” she said, before turning towards Henry, who was shutting down the last of his equipment, “Shotgun!”

“Hey, no fair!” Henry said, racing towards the front of the van after her, “There’s less of you to get stuck!”

“You snooze, you lose!” came around the side of the van, followed by the sounds of an argument ensuing.

“I’m beginning to feel unloved,” he remarked to Magnus with a grin, “I don’t think they want our charming company.”

“I can’t imagine why,” she grinned back, “We’re so easy to become attached to now.”

“That’s horrible!” he stifled a snigger.

“You’re still laughing.”

“That was a sound of despair.”

“You laughed!”

They were interrupted by Henry glooming back around the van door to them.

“Everything’s set up front,” Henry reported.

“Lose the coin toss?” he asked, unable to keep from smiling.

“Shall we go?” Magnus interrupted, before Henry could get started, “I, for one, am looking forward to a hot shower in the near future.”

“Amen,” he echoed fervently.

The ride back was mostly quiet: the Big Guy was preoccupied with driving as smoothly as possible, he and Magnus with not bumping into anything in the back, Henry with not bumping into them, and Kate – more than likely – with gloating over her good fortune.

Once parked, Henry helped them detach themselves from the towels and stood back as they gingerly headed for the building. He was making a beeline for the stairs when Magnus caught him tentatively   
by the sleeve and tugged him towards the elevator.

“You’re feeling brave enough to chance getting stuck to the elevator?” he asked.

“More feeling that I don’t care to hike down to the infirmary level tonight,” she admitted wryly.

“The… look, I know you’re all about being through, but the only thing wrong with me is the layer of glue I’m sporting,” he caught her eyes and gave his best beseeching look, “I’m begging you, please   
let me shower. Your furniture will thank you.”

“There are showers down in the infirmary, Will,” Magnus continued towards the elevators,   
implacable, with him in tow, “not to mention stronger soap. You can shower down there, suffer through one quick checkup, and then be on your way.”

He gave in with as much grace as he could muster under the circumstances, which mainly involved not purposely sticking himself to anything in order to avoid the Dungeon. At least he would get to shower and, the thought occurred to him as a pleasant jolt, maybe Magnus would get busy with something – like a shower of her own – and he could simply absent himself. He’d have to work up a good excuse and, with the mood she had been in lately, he was merely delaying the inevitable, but he couldn’t take a torture session on top of nearly being glued to death tonight.

One awkward elevator ride later, spent trying not to lurch against the walls, they emerged onto the infirmary level. He could feel his heart speeding up as he tried to plan out this scenario. Evading Magnus was always somewhat akin to an extreme sport: if it went wrong, it would go so very, very badly for him. Magnus motioned him through the infirmary door ahead of herself. He started towards the shower area, half-listening to her close the door behind them.

“Will.”

At his name, he turned to find Magnus much closer than he had anticipated. How come everyone here had stealth skills but him? Without waiting for a response, she continued, “Do not make me lock down the infirmary before we clean up. Understand?”

Wouldn’t she have told him if she were telepathic? Actually, no, she probably wouldn’t; Woman of Mystery and all that. Still, she had to be joking, right?

“Magnus,” he half-laughed, “I…”

“Do you understand?” her voice cut through the sentence he had yet to plan out. His laugh died.

“Uh, yeah,” he swallowed, “I got it.”

Rule One at the Sanctuary: When Helen Magnus takes That Tone with you, maintain a low profile and do exactly what she says. You might survive that way.

He knew that lesson well enough; still she searched his eyes for a long moment before relenting and putting a hand on his arm to nudge him towards the back showers.

“Then let’s remove a layer of glue, shall we?”

 

Life was so much more pleasant not covered in an unidentifiable substance. A sentence he preferred not to think about for too great a length of time. He luxuriated in the hot water and general feeling of cleanliness for a long moment before giving in to the inevitable and turning the water off. When he exited the shower, he should probably have been more surprised than he was to find that not only had Magnus left before him, but she had also absconded with his clothing.   
He supposed he should be grateful that she had left him boxers.

“Magnus, it this really necessary?” he complained as he walked into the main portion of the infirmary. “It’s freezing in here.”

“Up,” was her response, patting the exam table, “Just think, the sooner we’re done, the sooner you can go warm up.”

She, of course, was fully dressed, heels and all; though her still-wet hair was in a loose knot at the base of her neck. It was terribly unfair.

Sighing and permitting himself a few low grumbles, he rebelliously disdained the foot stool and hoisted himself onto the table. The fact that his ribs barely twinged was a pleasant surprise. It also gave him the nerve to return Magnus’ exasperated look with a cheeky grin.

“Right as rain,” he quipped.

“Are you settled?” she said with a definite I-am-not-going-to-smile twist to the corner of her mouth. Shifting his weight from side to side, he nodded hesitantly, uncertain what to expect. How do you ascertain when someone is not injured?

Whatever he would have come up with did not involve Magnus stepping close to him and running her fingers carefully over his scalp.

“Um, Magnus,” he asked, “What are you doing?”

“Checking for head injuries,” she murmured absent-mindedly, “Hold still.”

“You were right there,” he protested with a short laugh, “You know I wasn’t bludgeoned over the head with anything.”

“I’m giving you the standard check-up, Will, head to toe,” her fingers continued on to probe at the base of his skull as she spoke, “I don’t recall any kidney punches either, but I will be checking.”

He made an incoherent protesting noise on its way to becoming a sentence.

“Look on the bright side,” she continued, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders, “if you are uninjured, it will be the easiest test you’ll ever take.”

Some fights he knew he had no hope of winning. At least not yet; he quieted and let her continue to poke every inch of him, biding his time for an opportune moment to intervene. It lasted until she asked him to hop off the table for some basic neuro tests. A guy had to draw the line somewhere.

“Magnus,” he said, not moving off of the table yet, “don’t you think this is a little – excessive, maybe?”

“Excessive?” Magnus closed the distance that she had put between them to give him room to get down from the table and placed a hand over the knee she had just re-bandaged, “Will, I’m not doing this because I enjoy torturing you. You know very well how dangerous our line of work can be, especially out in the field. You should also know that ignoring minor symptoms can lead to major problems later on, whether because they were signs of a larger illness or by compounding them through multiple injuries.”

He found his fingertips suddenly very interesting. Magnus in lecture mode was hard to derail; best to just wait her out. Her voice stilled, though, and her hand came up to grasp his chin and nudge his face up towards hers before she continued.

“You need to understand this, Will,” she reproved before continuing, “I need to know if you are injured or ill, or even just feeling slightly off, to ensure not only your health, but the rest of the Sanctuary’s as well. The last thing anyone needs is you unable to move easily enough to dodge and capture a dangerous Abnormal,” she patted his knee at that, but didn’t give him time to contribute an ‘I’m fine,’ “or contracting a virus that spreads to infect us all.” Finished, she motioned him off the table once more.

He slid down, still processing, and waited through a few of the tests before he gave in to his biggest concern, “You do know I would never purposefully endanger anyone. Don’t you?” He wished that he sounded more certain about that statement.

Magnus stopped jotting down a note to give him a smile and clasp his upper arm   
reassuringly, “Of course I know that, Will. Never crossed my mind.”

With that question settled, he concentrated on getting the tests over with as soon as humanly possible. He didn’t remember even his yearly physical taking this long – though he did try to avoid those more often than not. Any more time and he might actually develop something while he was down here. Freezing.

It was ridiculous really, the more he thought about it, how much Magnus was overreacting to a few bumps and bruises; particularly in their line of work. She would hardly have any respect for him if he ran to her over every cut. Also – brain-eating parasite. Her brain. How did she have any room to talk?

Before he was done dwelling on the inequities of his workplace, Magnus finally drew to a close and pointed him towards a pair of scrubs lying out on the next table over. Absurdly grateful, he shrugged them on and headed for the door. Destination: Bed. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately, but surely an Encounter of the Gluey Kind would have worn him out enough for a few good hours, at least.

“Hang on,” Magnus cut into his plotting.

Reluctantly, he moved back to the exam table to stand next to her. What now – the reading   
of the verdict?

“Just need a vial,” she said, brandishing a wrapped syringe in his direction.   
Instinctively, he crossed his arms.

“Magnus… no,” he said in the firmest voice he possessed, “This has gone far enough.”

“I need to check for any unusual spikes that could indicate infection,” she said, holding out her hand and clearly expecting his arm in return, “Last test, I promise,”

“I’ve given you an hour,” he said stubbornly, keeping his arms crossed, “I’m not giving up blood, too.”

Her eyes went steely and he braced himself. Magnus never took ‘no’ very well – a trait she shared with Tesla, alarmingly enough – but he was determined to stand firm on one thing tonight. He watched, with more than a hint of trepidation, as she carefully set the syringe back on the tray before drawing closer to him.

“It was my understanding that you wished to remain on the active mission list,” she calmly pointed out once she was planted firmly in front of him, close enough to remind him that not only was Magnus ever so slightly taller than him even without heels, but that she was also way more intimidating than he would ever be, even with a hundred more years.

“Of course I do,” he replied, striving for the same level of calm, “but…”

“Then this is what we have to do, Will,” she broke in over him, “Every time. The same steps, each time, to make certain you are uninjured.”

He successfully managed to avoid wondering how she had picked up on his need for routine – seriously, was she telepathic? – and moved on with his protests.

“For how long?” he demanded incredulously, “Because this is not the best use of either of our time, because I Am. Perfectly. Fine.”

“As long as it takes until you stop hiding from me, Will,” Magnus replied simply, not responding to his increase in volume and agitation. He hated it when she went all Zen master on him and wouldn’t fight back. Also, was it just him or did her answer make no sense whatsoever?

“Hiding?” he stumbled, “Magnus, I’m right here. Last I checked I’ve never gone MIA for days   
and locked myself in a closet somewhere. We all practically live in each other’s pockets. How is that hiding?”

“You’ve done a very good impression of someone locked in a closet over the past week, I dare say,” she said, still infernally calm, “You’ve barely left your office, rarely talked to anyone outside of your scheduled patients, and apparently decided to give up eating.”

“The Big Guy is such a mother hen,” he muttered, before continuing, “You know I injured my knee and, since walking is somehow a lot less fun when it hurts, I decided to get my office into some semblance of order. Shouldn’t you be happy about that? My paperwork is no longer dramatically overdue!”

“I do appreciate paperwork turned over in a timely manner, Will, you know that. However, I am not Henry,” she leaned her hip against the table, the motion bringing her closer to him even without any other overt movement; he tried not to relax his defense, not when he needed to win this round so badly, “and I know exactly how much of a backlog you had. Hardly enough to keep you occupied for two hours, I should say.”

She had to be a telepath; there was no other way she could keep tabs on so many people with all the work she had on her own plate, otherwise.

“I reorganized,” he responded, “Caught up on some research that was long overdue. It was one week where I was sort of out of commission. Why does this qualify as ‘hiding’ and justify bringing out the big guns?” he finished, gesturing to the infirmary.

“You may recall that this course,” she motioned to the room herself, “was decided on before your tenure as a recluse. Will,” Magnus sighed, bringing her near hand up to brush his arm lightly, “you may have started hiding physically only this past week, but I think we both know you’ve truly been hiding for far longer.”

“What?” his tongue stumbled out, before he leaned back into the table and away from Magnus.

“While you were in here last week, I took the opportunity to give you the complete, full physical that you’ve, quite cleverly I’ll admit, been avoiding for years,” Magnus reached past him to bring up a file on the monitor behind him, but he didn’t bother moving away. Whatever was coming next, he had a feeling that he was going to need every scrap of comfort he could beg, borrow, or steal, “Imagine my surprise at what I found.”

Ignorance was probably the way to go. It helped that he was still a little vague on what   
was happening anyway. Which was awesome.

“And what did you find?” he managed to say with a tinge of sarcasm, which wasn’t quite a devil-may-care tone, but probably as close as he was going to get today.

“See for yourself,” Magnus slid an arm around his back and nudged him towards the display.   
He gave in and turned, somewhat surprised when she moved with him, so that her arm came to rest   
around his waist as he faced the monitor. Ignoring both her arm and the fact that she had fairly effectively trapped him between herself, the cot, and the computer, he watched his file scroll by on the screen.

“Okay, it’s my file,” he said, when it became clear she was waiting for his response, “You were surprised that I had one?”

“Will,” came the expected admonishment.

“Magnus, can you please just stop being cryptic and tell me what is so fascinating here. I’ve got nothing.”

“What is ‘fascinating’? How about this healed skull fracture, does that warrant a ‘fascinating’? Perhaps the scar tissue indicating a deep knife wound on your upper back. Is that a better choice of ‘fascinating’?”

“Clearly ‘fascinating’ was a poor choice of words. I got it. What’s so… interesting, then, about all of this. So I’ve had a few injuries. We almost got glued to a warehouse today, Magnus. These things happen in our ‘fascinating’ line of work,” he tried to shift away from the monitor, but found that the effective trapping he had been trying to ignore was still a factor. One Magnus didn’t seem inclined to let go of any time soon, judging by the strength behind the arm keeping him in place. He so often forgot how strong she actually was behind her façade of skirts and curls. He blamed the heels. How do you equate someone who could take you down with a pocketful of change and the beautiful woman clattering around in four-inch stilettos?

“The interesting bit, Will,” Magnus said, her voice dropping from sarcastic into quietly serious, “is that I have no record of these injuries ever occurring. Which returns us to the subject of you hiding from me, I believe.”

“I did manage a few injuries before I got here, you know,” he stalled, desperately trying to think of a way out of this conversation. He didn’t want to do this now - or ever, actually, if he had the choice. Though he had the sinking feeling he did not.

“Not all of these,” she quickly responded, not backing down an inch, “You don’t have to tell me where they each came from right now, Will,” she paused and he wondered if he could relax now. Probably not. This was Magnus, after all. “Just tell me why you didn’t tell me then.”

Nope, no relaxing here. He stared at the monitor to buy some time, as though the answer was scrolling down the screen. Actually, that would be pretty nice. A little creepy, granted, but… he didn’t have time for this; if he didn’t answer soon Magnus would start in with some other tactic. It was so hard to mount a defense, though, with her arm around his back like she was going to protect him from some harm and her hand running down his arm as if he needed soothing. Ignore it and think faster, he ordered his brain.

“Will?” Oops, too long and he still had nothing. Say something, idiot! Anything!

“I was fine,” not an inspiring start, but he could work with it. “You don’t need to be mad, I’m fine.”

“I’m not…” Magnus trailed off, a fact he took heart at hearing. It was the first time he had managed to derail her tonight, but before he could follow up his advantage, she stated bluntly, “Why do you think I would be mad?”

“Who’s the psychiatrist here?” he questioned. Maybe it would lead her off of this burgeoning investigation. Magnus playing Sherlock Holmes – now there was irony.

“Answer my question, Will,” was her only response, however. That and tightening her arm enough that he found himself involuntarily leaning towards her rather than away. He looked down at her arm and contemplated trying to wriggle away, but before he could convince himself that it was probably both futile and a bad idea, Magnus’ other hand tapped him on the chin. Startled, he looked up at her. This felt familiar somehow; a nagging sensation that he just couldn’t place. “Why do you think I would be mad?”

“Um, aren’t you?” the memory dancing just out of reach distracted him long enough to say the first thing on his mind. He internally winced at the question. Who asked their boss if they were mad at them?

“Not my question, Will,” Magnus said, before repeating, “Why do you think I would be mad?”

“I don’t know,” he said, frustrated.

“Try.”

“I’m not a telepath,” he tried a small wriggle, just to see what would happen and was unsurprised when she pulled him back into place. He really wanted to sigh, but that was not part of a winning strategy.

“Take a guess.”

He huffed out a breath, despite himself. Would she just leave it, already? He didn’t know,   
he never understood more than half the things she did with all that history behind her, he hated   
guessing – it was halfway to lying, and she was so damn hard to profile.

“Will.”

“I don’t know!” he couldn’t take the pinprick questioning any longer, not that and being kept in one place; pacing bled off so much tension, but she wouldn’t let him move, “For being injured!”

“I should be mad at you for being injured,” Magnus stated calmly.

Knowing that repeating statements was a psychological tactic should really help him avoid falling for it, but it was weird being on this side of the couch. So to speak.

“But I’m fine, I’ll be fine,” he didn’t really want to talk her into being mad at him, if she wasn’t already. Helen Magnus out for blood was only amazing when it was turned on other people, “It’s not a problem, no trouble, really, no worries. I’m fine,” he restated for emphasis.

“Yes, you said that.”

“Because it’s true, you don’t have to…” he trailed off, uncertain where his own sentence had been going. That was annoying.

“I don’t have to?” she prompted.

“Um,” good question, he thought, I just don’t have an answer, “worry?” That sounded wrong somehow, “About me not being fine, I mean,” that was a little better. “I won’t get in the way or anything, on a mission?” This was possibly the world’s worst worded sentence. “Because I’m fine,” there, now it was the world’s worst.

“So, I should be mad at you because you might get in the way,” and apparently Magnus only heard what she wanted to anyway. If she killed him in the infirmary, they would so never find his body.

“No,” he needed to get that point in there quickly before the murdering began, “because I won’t. I can handle it. I’m fine.” He was really getting tired of saying that. What was another word that meant the same thing? ‘Okay’? Would that work?

“You keep saying that,” Magnus pointed out, so maybe she was getting tired of hearing it as well.

“Because it’s true,” he reinforced deliberately, “So you don’t have to take me off the mission list, or vengefully drown my desk in paperwork,” maybe he could work in a little humor here? “Or make… or anything,” he finished, lamely.

“Or make?”

“I don’t know,” he tried to laugh, “I couldn’t come up with anything else.”

“You started to,” she said, in that Zen manner he was beginning to loathe. “What would I make happen?’

“I don’t know,” he was getting tired of saying that, too. Was she going to keep him trapped in this spot all night? He tried shifting his weight, to let the momentum separate them, but Magnus moved with him and he somehow wound up tucked into her hip when they settled. He would really like to just go to bed now.

“Make?” she prompted.

“Make anything. I don’t know,” and once more with feeling, he grouched. He was tired and cold and she was hard to read even on a good day. It didn’t help that, this close, her warmth was making him drowsy and why did she smell like lilacs? It was all wrong. If she was mad she should be moving away from him, but she wouldn’t let go. If she wasn’t mad, then why was she grilling him? It didn’t make sense and he wanted it to stop, “Make horrible chores? Make me deal with Wexford? Hell, make cookies?” he restrained the hysterical giggles after that one. Well, mostly. “Make time?” he wasn’t sure that made sense, but he was on a roll. “Make me file? Make me pay? Make me leave?”

His fit of giggles deserted him abruptly. He had not meant to say that. At all. If she was mad, she might take him up on it and that would be bad. That would be very bad.

He remembered to breathe when Magnus cupped his chin and said, “I’m not mad.”

Oh. Good. Breathing, right. Wait, then what the hell?

“Then what the hell?”

He hoped he had only thought that statement.

“I’m not mad because you were injured, Will, or because I feared you would ‘get in the way’,” she said, “I’m… upset because you did not tell me you were injured,” there was a slight pause. “Do you see the difference?”

Not really, but he could guess that wasn’t the right answer.

“Yeah,” he said, “My mistake.”

There were times Magnus wasn’t hard to read at all and he could tell by the look she gave him that she wasn’t buying it.

“Will,” she looked him straight-on with that indefinable look in her eyes – determination and something else, sympathy? He couldn’t tell. “I will never make you leave. Do you understand me?”

It was a nice sentiment.

“Yeah,” he said, looking over at the monitor.

When he twisted out of her hold this time, she let him go.


	8. Round Two

He had never liked heights. In middle school he had pretended to be completely inept at the hanging rope so that he would never have to climb all the way to the ceiling. By now, of course, he had learned to handle them with stoicism, if not any love, but jumping off that cliff for Magnus and the world had still been so much harder than he would ever admit.

With this in mind, he was uncertain why he wound up on the North Tower after the – whatever – with Magnus. It was her place to contemplate, not his. Granted, he had become familiar with it over time knowing, as he did, that in the aftermath of whatever crisis had hit them that week, eventually Magnus would wind her way up here. Which meant that, after a suitable period, more often than not he wound up here, too. They didn’t always talk and, if they did, it wasn’t always about what had prompted her retreat up those tower steps. He just wanted to remind her that there was a world waiting below her and it wasn’t all shooting bad guys and counting losses. He supposed, in a way, that what he was trying to do was ground Magnus, give her some of that normalcy she believed so strongly that she didn’t want. Well, believed she didn’t want or couldn’t have, which boiled down to the same thing in the end.

Of course, now that he was the one sitting on the edge of the parapet, watching his feet dangle slowly in the wind, thudding against solid stone every few beats, it seemed ridiculous that he could offer such comfort in the first place. He probably wouldn’t even be there to offer anything for very much longer, anyway.

On that thought, he squeezed his eyes closed until he could see lights sparking across his lids and leaned back on his hands with a huff. Turning his head up to the sky and opening his eyes again to watch what stars he could see through Old City’s light pollution, he tried to focus his mind.

What was wrong with him?

This past week had been so different from what he was accustomed to here – more paperwork and books and solitude, less butt-kicking and pointlessly witty conversations and that thrill of derring-do that wove into everything they did, somehow. Which was the way it was supposed to be and how was he to know?

The problem was, he admitted reluctantly, that the line between work and life had blurred almost beyond recognition here. When your room was an elevator ride away from your office and three stories above a mermaid, things got kind of screwy.

Right, he took a deep breath, so this is work. Maybe it was about time he started treating it as such and stop acting like… He actually felt his thought process stutter to a halt. Wonder if that’s what a train feels like derailing? Despite himself and his recalcitrant brain, he knew exactly what he didn’t want to even think. Moodily, he swung his legs back over the edge and stood up to pace the width of the tower.

After a few minutes of furious pacing, he stopped to look out over Old City. Home, he thought at himself fiercely, almost wanting the word to hurt, it feels like a home, but it’s not. Its work and it can’t ever be anything else, so quit avoiding the issue and just accept it, damn you. Before you lose what you actually can have.

He resumed pacing absentmindedly. For so long, he’d searched for this job; for a place that wanted both his skills as a psychiatrist and observer as well as his penchant for seeing things most would rather he ignored. He didn’t want to lose that; he couldn’t. Where did one possibly go after here? Back to the government that kicked him from job to job or starting over in a civilian field where the most excitement he could possibly have would be less thrilling than an incredibly boring day here? Not another Sanctuary. He was fairly confident that the half-dozen he had visited personally, as well as others he had worked with, would gladly take him in for his skills, but that would possibly be the only thing worse than leaving altogether. One foot out of the door, as it were.

He shook his head hard enough for his neck to crack slightly as the vertebrae realigned, hoping it would shake out the morbid thoughts. This job wasn’t lost yet and he had never gone down without a fight. All he had to do was figure out what Magnus wanted, do it, and maybe things could go back to almost-normal. Except, he vowed, if he got a second chance to do this right, he would remember the lines he had to draw around a job. That wouldn’t be hard, once he got back into the pattern; figuring out Magnus, however… well, greater men had failed in that endeavor.

It would help, he huffed, leaning against a buttress, if she weren’t sending out more mixed signals than a trainee air traffic controller. He knew the Furious-Magnus signs: chilly tone, hard eyes, and a personal bubble ten feet wide. If she were simply mad he could placate her. This Magnus, though, he had no framework for at all. She wasn’t happy with him that was clear – the “rules” spelled that one out for him nicely. So, check for the ‘angry’ column. In the ‘what-the-hell’ column, however, was the complete absence of ice-queen characteristics. Her personal space had seemed to actually diminish where he was concerned, which was alarming. It was a bit like having a tiger leap at him, only instead of getting down to the mauling, it licked his face instead. Not the worst outcome, only now he couldn’t decide if the tiger was just toying with him and waiting for his guard to lower before ripping him into tiger chow. And he was officially done with that metaphor. Not only was it making him queasy, but if Magnus ever knew he had personified her as a tiger… well, maybe she would take it as a compliment – if he was very lucky.

Back on track, Will, he ordered his mind. That was actually part of the problem, he considered: how scattered his thoughts had been this past week, how easy to derail with yet another worry. So, he just needed to focus. Alright, he could do that.

First off, Magnus knew that he had been hiding injuries from her.

Magnus was less than pleased.

Upset, not about him being injured, but about not telling her of his injuries.

Why?

Okay, he remembered her saying once that his well-being was her responsibility, which made sense considering how devout a doctor she was, not to mention her unhealthy habit of viewing herself as caretaker of the entire planet. So, not telling her probably made her feel guilty. Mystery solved. The solution might be a bit harder.

He began pacing once more.

Obviously telling her about every hangnail was not an option he could take - not only was he supposed to lighten her load instead of raise it, he couldn't risk the consequences of transparency in this matter. If only he was more competent in the field, less clumsy... Magnus shouldn't feel guilty about all of this; after all, he brought it upon himself.

He was getting distracted again.

Right, telling her was out. Keeping his injuries from her was also out, though, at least in the manner he had been using.

Why did she have to make this so hard? Focus, Will.

He couldn’t tell her.

He couldn’t hide from her.

This wasn’t home.

He needed to treat this like work.

Wait, that was it. Perception. If he was the consummate professional – cool, collected, capable, distant, and everything that an employer would want in such a dangerous position, what could there be to fault? Of course, he would still have to work out how to keep injuries to an absolute minimum or another method of concealing them, but it was at least the beginnings of a plan. He had already brought his paperwork up to speed and gotten back into a researching rhythm, now he just needed to create a more appropriate working relationship with his colleagues. The pain that thought caused made him redouble his pacing. It couldn’t be helped, he argued internally, if he could pull this off, then Magnus would… what? Okay, Will, honesty time: What do you want?

To stay.

The answer was so immediate and harsh that he stopped mid-stride and reached a hand out towards the stone nearby. Grimly, he looked down at the city below and accepted his true motivation in this mess in which he found himself embroiled. If she would only let him stay, he would do anything, be anything he had to in order to please her. Even if that meant throwing up so many professionally distant walls that he might drown inside with no one the wiser. Whatever it took.

His phone buzzed with a new text. Drawing a shaky breath, he thumbed it on-screen and felt his heart sink when he read the sender. His resolution was going to be tested sooner than expected, it seemed.

 

“Hey,” he said, stepping into Magnus’ office and holding his cell phone in front of him like a shield, “Got your text. What’s up?”

“Ah, Will,” Magnus looked up at him with, to his great surprise, a smile and motioned towards the cluster of furniture around the fireplace. “Sit, won’t you? I’ll be right with you.”

He couldn’t decide if this was a bad omen or a good one, but he proceeded to the fireside without comment. Instinctively, he avoided the Magnus-chair and seated himself in a corner of the small sofa. With no danger of Kate appearing – he hoped – the sofa was much more comfortable than the chairs. He suspected it was the remnants of a Victorian upbringing that made Magnus equip her office with chairs that could double as torture devices during long meetings.

The only unfortunate thing about being given time to collect his thoughts, was that annoying tendency they had developed of taking off on their own. You can do this, he tried out on his mind. All he needed to do was react as though she were any employer: cool and collected, present his opinions with precision and, most importantly, think everything through twice. He’d gotten into the bad habit of reacting first in the past week (longer than that, if he was honest with himself) and, whatever Jedi mind tricks Magnus had up her sleeve that were making him forget his own hard-earned rules, given enough time to think he could reign in any reaction.

With a plan in mind, he surprised himself with the heavy feeling descending over his spirits. It’ll work, I promise! Come on, self, buck up! It wasn’t the prospect of failure weighing on him, though, he realized. It was the idea of this whole upcoming conversation. Since he’d known Magnus, he had taken it for granted that he could simply be himself in her presence. It was one of the greater gifts of taking this job: someone who knew precisely what he could see and all the somewhat shady details of his past and wanted him anyway. Breaking the habit was just plain… depressing. It will be just the same in work, though, he pleaded with himself. Only this aspect will change. Has to change, if I don’t want to lose everything, he amended. Even the thought sent chills down his spine.  
A touch to his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts to refocus on the fire.

“Will?” from the sound of Magnus’ voice, it wasn’t the first time she had called to him. He looked over to find her seated next to him, a concerned furrow creasing her brow. He’d seen too much of that furrow lately.

“Sorry,” he said with a restrained smile, “Just a bit tired.”

“Understandably so,” Magnus smiled, “given our gluey friend. To be honest,” she continued, as he struggled to keep from giving a too-enthusiastic grin in return, “I didn’t expect you to get my message until the morning. I had thought you’d gone to bed.”

He could have put this off for a day? No, probably better to start now as later.

“No, you caught me in time,” he said obliquely, “Did the results from the… glue-creature come back with anything alarming?”

It seemed a neat diversion, although he knew in that case, she would have wanted to meet sooner than tomorrow morning.

“No,” she replied after a pause and a long look at him, under which he barely held up his expectant expression, “So far, the creature’s abilities seem to be simply an extremely strong adhesive. Given the relative frailty of the body structure, I suspect it is used both to capture prey at a distance and to immobilize predators long enough for the creature to escape.”

“Multipurpose,” he barely stopped the word ‘cool’ from escaping, “that seems logical. It might also support why it first came at us after gluing us, then tried to escape once you shot at it. We moved from prey to predator.”

“Indeed,” the pause was longer this time.

Before Magnus could speak, he jumped in, “So why did you need to see me, then?” At least for a brief moment of time he could attempt to control the conversation. If he remained on the attack, maybe Magnus would never get the chance. Maybe. Doubtfully. Yeah, good luck, Will.

For a long moment, he was engaged in something like a staring contest, only this one was a battle between one set of eyes looking for something, while the other set tried to let nothing through, even though the goal of the search was unknown. It made it a little hard to tend the goal, he groused, while giving his best implacable expression and gazing slightly to the side of her eyes so as not to make a direct and too personal contact, when you don’t even know the shape of the puck. Whatever he was doing must have worked, however, as Magnus broke away first to reach over the back of the sofa to the table behind it.

“The final step of your exam,” she answered his question, bringing her hand back over the sofa carrying a wrapped syringe. “I had hoped by the morning you would be… more amenable.”

He pushed down his first reaction to insist that it was unnecessary and point out how much time they had wasted on this endeavor already. So far, that argument had been poorly received. Okay, how would he respond to any other employer in this situation?

“I don’t see the point of this,” he began, continuing quickly when it appeared that Magnus might interrupt, “but if you feel if necessary, then of course, proceed,” he finished, holding out his arm.

She was quick to grab his arm and stretch it over her lap, but slower to peel off the sterilized wrapper and find a likely vein. After drawing blood, she reached back over the sofa and came back with a cotton ball, which she pressed to the wound while drawing the needle out. He set his own fingers over it to give her the ability to cap the needle and drew his arm back to his own lap. When he finally looked up from his arm, where he had been watching the process, it was to find Magnus scrutinizing him once more.

He was afraid to ask her what she saw. Lately, he wasn’t sure that he would like the answer.

“Anything else?” Please say no, he thought fervently, just let me leave. The weight seemed heavier on that thought. He had always sought her company, sometimes it was the only place he felt himself, wasn’t he doing this to prevent losing that?

“You changed your mind quickly,” she said, a non-answer, but one in which he could hear the unvoiced question. He hesitated. Should he answer? If he didn’t, he could probably give something non-committal and escape. Or maybe he should try and mend a few bridges.

“Yes, I,” he paused, sounding out what to say in his head. It was strange, filtering for her, not relying on their understanding of one another for her to know what he meant, “I apologize for my actions. There are no excuses for this past week. Not enough sleep, I suppose, but in any case, I am sorry.”

It was stilted, he knew, and so far from how they normally interacted that he didn’t need to even look at her to know that she would notice. Maybe this was better, though, most employees don’t tell their boss everything off the top of their heads. This would be more normal, better for everyone; surely, that would be what she wanted?

“Hm,” it wasn’t a sound of agreement that she made or acceptance or even inquiry, more the sound she made when an odd test result came back or a catalogued abnormal appeared with new characteristics. “What actions do you mean?”

Had she been sleeping this past week? Two hours ago? No, he couldn’t ask her that. Not how you address an employer, Will. Think calm. Rational.

“My… scenes in the infirmary,” he laid on a small, restrained smile, “Hysteria isn’t really attractive.”

“And why do you think you’ve been acting this way?”

It’s her tone that makes him suspicious; it’s too calm, placating. If she was truly fine with his apology, she would have waved it off and sent him to bed. Instead, she was questioning him again as she had a bare handful of hours ago. Was she looking for the same reaction? Maybe this was a test to see if he truly meant his apology. He had to stay calm.

“Like I said, probably not enough sleep,” he tried a light laugh, “Though of course, that’s no excuse for my behavior.”

“Hm,” there was that sound again, “You do look a bit peaked. Any particular reason you aren’t sleeping?”

What kind of answer was she expecting? Why, yes, Magnus, in fact there is a very particular reason. The fact that I spend half the night tossing and turning trying to figure a way out of this mess, then fall asleep only to wake up out of nightmares where I’m miserable and somewhere else is a very particular reason. Not to mention the usual nightmares of the past. Plus, the new usual nightmares of our adventures saving the world. What he can’t figure out is how anyone in the building gets a good night’s sleep. Despite the fact that it’s his job to ensure that they do so. Not to mention that he wasn’t doing as badly as usual himself up until about a week ago. So not helpful, Will.  
“Insomnia is what it is,” he trots out the small smile again, “If I could predict it or fix it, I could make a fortune.”

“But this is more recent, correct? So something must be different,” she was quick to point out. Clearly, he should move on to trying to get out of the room as quickly as possible.

“Whatever it may be, I think the glue-creature vanquished it for the night,” one more of these uncomfortable smiles and he might get out the door, “So I think I’ll catch some sleep.” There, that was fairly subtle, right?

“I remember you asked about insomnia when you first came here. Your first tour,” Perhaps subtle was the wrong approach; it seemed to sail right past her. Maybe his next attempt should be ‘I’m leaving now,’ followed by a quick bolt to the door. He wondered how far down the hall he would make it. His guess was ‘not far.’ “I had thought it had gotten better over time, however.”

On the end of another of a patented Magnus interrogation-look, he tried to push aside his annoyingly-real exhaustion to answer calmly, “Well, you know how these things go. Cycles. Besides, can you think of any other reason I would act so… erratically?” He had almost said crazy, but had managed to remember the strawberry fields in time to avoid that reference. Still, too close.

“The question is, Will, can you?” Wait, what? From her expression, he definitely had the feeling he’d missed something.

“Can I… what?” he asked, with no small amount of trepidation.

“Think of another reason why you would be acting this way,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“Nope, just insomnia,” he attempted a chuckle, but when it sounded weak even to his own ears, he turned into a short cough and shifted forward in preparation to stand, “No great mystery this time.”

“Will,” he knew by the tone (very-serious) that he was not going to escape any time soon. When would he learn to have a back-up plan? “You’ve dealt with insomnia since before you joined the Sanctuary and have never reacted to missed sleep like this before. Some other very… creative ways,” she paused with a small smile, while he tried not to react to the allusion to his short, very short, experimentation with hypnotic tapes. Yeah, because waking up with your boss leading you back to your room from the kitchens where you’d been sleep-eating pickles with peanut butter and mustard is so easy to forget. He didn’t know which had been worse, the humiliation of admitting what he’d been doing or the stomach ache he’d suffered the next day, “but never like this. So, clearly something new is going on.”

“There is nothing,” he began, eager to head her off before she got a head of steam, but clearly he had started cooling-off procedures too late as she continued right over him.

“You said you’ve been experiencing the insomnia for about a week, correct?” She barely paused to catch his nod and ignored the tiny ‘but’ he almost managed to sneak in edgewise, “I find it a bit much for a coincidence that it was also a week ago that you and I had a very similar conversation in the infirmary concerning your health. Don’t you agree?”

Perhaps it wasn’t telepathy, maybe it was some sort of aura she gave off, because this close to her, all he wanted to do was say ‘Yes, you figured it out, I’m not sleeping because I’m waiting for the axe to fall, so would you just fire me and get it over with?’ He shook his head abruptly and shot to his feet, the walk over to the fireplace giving him time to collect his thoughts and push that particular response as far back in his mind as it could go. Turning to face her, he noticed the concerned line was back and had apparently brought a few friends to the party. Great, he was giving the one hundred and sixty year old woman, wrinkles. That would get him brownie points.

“I’ll admit the tension between us has been trying, but…” he got no further. For all of Magnus’ skills as a doctor and her bone-deep empathy, both paled in direct confrontation with her temper. Well, less paled and more gave up without a fight, took a backseat, and held on for the ride when she got going. Which she definitely was now.

“Stop this, Will. Right now,” from his vantage leaning against the mantle, he checked for the customary markers. Standing, check. Hands clenched, check. Eyes steely, check. Squaring up like she was ready to go ten rounds, check. On the bright side, it was the first time in a week that she was completely reacting in a way he recognized. Of course, the down side was that it was definitely anger. Directed at him. Crap. This was so not going to plan.

“This is not my forte, I’ll admit, but I am tired of watching you convince yourself that you are reacting in a logical manner,” she was within arms length of him now and he wondered if he could move away subtly or if he should just abandon caution and find something sturdy to hide   
behind, “Clearly, waiting for you to realize on your own that you are harming yourself is not   
working, so now you’re going to listen to me.”

Ducking and covering was sounding better and better, but the choice was taken from him by Magnus’ wrapping her hand around his wrist.

“I’m not,” he began to protest, belatedly, the idea of self-harm.

“Hush,” she said, not unkindly, but sternly and obviously expecting to be obeyed as she led him back to the sofa and pulled on his arm until he joined her. Once seated, he supposed that he should have expected that his arm would not be returned to him.

“I’m…” he tried again.

“If the next word out of your mouth is ‘fine,’ I shall not be liable for my actions,” Magnus interrupted, “For the past week, I’ve let you have your head in the hopes that you would consider your actions and approach the subject, with me or by yourself or with anyone, of why you feel the need to lie about your injuries. Instead, you’ve hidden yourself away, neglected your health, resisted all attempts to consider your actions, and now, if I’m not much mistaken,” here she moved her free hand up to grip his chin. Startled, he refocused from staring slightly off-center of her eyes to actually connect gazes with her for the first time since entering the room, “you’ve decided to retreat even further. If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine, but now you are going to listen.”

Calm. Professional. He opened his mouth to intervene, but was stopped by Magnus’ hand going up between them and the fierce glare he was pinned with behind it.

“Listening does not require speaking, Will,” the glare continued a moment longer until she was certain he had received the message. Loud and clear, Magnus. Let’s get this over with. From the look he received as she lowered her hand, he guessed that part of his mental statement must have shown up on his face. Quickly, he schooled it back into bland expectation. Oddly, that seemed to irritate her more. Would she make up her mind already?

After a long moment where Magnus continued to gaze at him, seemingly content to not say anything even though she had just stated that he needed to listen – which made so much sense – he dropped his gaze to where her hand was still wrapped around his arm. In response, she slid her hand down to capture his and began to speak.

“I know that you’re aware of how I ‘kept tabs,’ as it were, on you before I offered you a place in the Sanctuary.”

“By hitting me with your car,” he couldn’t help but interject and then winced as he waited for her to tell him to shut up in her own polite manner. Instead he heard a soft laugh before she continued.

“Not your normal job interview, I suppose, but it certainly caught your attention,” the hand wrapped around his squeezed lightly and he looked up to catch the tail end of a soft expression crossing Magnus’ face, “In any case, when one has kept an eye on someone for a certain number of years, one can’t help but notice a few facts.”

“Such as?” he inquired, suddenly wary of where she was leading the conversation. What did his past have to do with anything? They rarely spoke of it, yet another of their unwritten rules.

“Such as how often your address changed,” Magnus supplied softly.

“My permanent address was always the same,” he stated in a monotone, turning serious attention to reclaiming his hand. Not that it worked, Magnus simply took a firmer grip and continued   
determinedly.

“Your actual address, however, changed nearly every year,” to her credit, Magnus’ voice managed to convey sympathy without pity, which was a nice trick. “Aunts, uncles, a few older cousins, your grandmother, a great-aunt or two… it makes quite a moving history.”

“So my father was busy… away a lot; what does it matter?” He gave up on his hand, pretending it was no longer attached and staring into the fire while he attempted to project complete disinterest.  
Ignoring him, she continued as though he hadn’t spoken, “Then, of course, there was your employment with the FBI, one position after another, all over the map.”

“What is your point?” he couldn’t quite manage detached professionalism this time, he just settled for hoping not too much of his anger leaked into his tone. She knew his past was an off-limits topic. A guideline that, he thought, had been working well for them so far.

“My point is that we are not them, Will,” before he could formulate a response to this somewhat bizarre statement, she continued, “You do not have to leave, we will not send you anywhere.”

Silence reigned for a moment.

“You don’t have to be perfect, Will,” he actually managed a noise before she swept him along again, the only sign that it had been audible was the increased pressure on his hand, “An injury only means that our job is dangerous, not that you are an inconvenience. Late paperwork and always needing more research time just means that you’re human and occasionally actually need to sleep. It is alright, Will, to be yourself here. I will never send you away.”

He wanted to believe her; for a moment he let himself imagine that he did and it felt so very safe. Until reality inevitably intruded and reminded him that, while she might mean this now, it didn’t mean she always would. People changed, it was just a matter of time. He didn’t want to shorten whatever time he would be allotted by even an hour.

Freeing his hand meant rising to his feet at such an angle that if she didn’t let go, she might hurt her arm.

“I appreciate that, Magnus, truly,” he said, looking at the fire once more, and he was grateful that she had bothered to watch out for him and for laying out her… esteem for him in such a manner, “but I think you might be reading too much into everything. I liked moving,“ which wasn’t true, “I’m well aware that I’m not perfect,” which was very true, “and I have no concerns about my work here,” which was so far from true as to be located on another planet. “Well,” he tried to laugh, “unless you fire me for my continual insubordination in your infirmary. Which, I promise, will end,” he finished as seriously as possible.

He heard Magnus sigh and the rustle of the sofa as she rose to stand behind him, “If you had been listening, you would know that I’m not trying to fire you, I’m trying to help you,” a hand came to rest on his upper arm and he could feel her warmth close along his back, “Will, can you honestly turn around, look me in the eye, and tell me that I am wrong?”

He wanted so much to lean back into that warmth, the security it offered, and just let himself believe – but that way disaster lay. You wouldn’t think it would take so many examples for that to sink it, he thought disgustedly.

Instead, he turned around and broke her hold, looking as closely towards her eyes as he dared.

“You’re wrong.”

He pretended not to hear her call him as he quickly walked out the door, headed anywhere but there.


	9. Free Fall

He paused with indecision at the base of the staircase to the North Tower. Why had his feet even led him here? He didn’t have time for this; not if he wanted to make everything right. The office, that’s where he should head, to take charge of any Sanctuary paperwork he could find and then get more research in before a new day brought something else he couldn’t predict.

Decided, he reversed his footsteps and was a few feet down the corridor when his phone buzzed. Reluctantly, he thumbed over it to see who had contacted him and stopped in the middle of the hallway to take the call.

“Ricardo, what’s up?”

A panicked rush of information came over the line and he began moving again, almost jogging towards the vehicle storage.

“It’s okay,” he finally broke in, when Ricardo began to repeat himself, “I’m on my way. Getting in a car now and everything; I’ll take care of it.”

He hung up and turned the key in the ignition. As he pulled out and made his way carefully through the Sanctuary gates he knew that it was probably too much to hope for that his absence would go unnoticed. And that Magnus would be none too thrilled with him when he returned. Still, if he could pull this off, what more proof would she need that he was still her perfectly capable second in command?

 

An hour later, peering up a cliff that seemed much taller than when he had climbed down it, he was beginning to regret his impetuosity. The rare desert cat offshoot tucked into his jacket didn't seem much more thrilled than him.

"Look, little guy," he tried reasoning, "I promise I won't let you get wet, but you have to not gouge out any vital organs in return," he paused, contemplating. "Your claws are freaking sharp."

He stepped out into the rain and either his brilliant compromise had appealed to the kitten or he feared that Will would toss him into the rain if he went claw-happy. He was pretty sure that he wouldn't do that, but was more than okay with the kitten believing otherwise if it kept him from becoming a substitute scratching-post.

“Okay, one small cliff and then we’re home free, little dude,” he tried to infuse hope and optimism into that statement, but that climb was so shorter on the way down. He’d only been gone an hour; how had it acquired so many new pointy, crumbly bits since then and about fifty extra feet? Still, he couldn’t just stand here in the rain all night. For one thing, he wasn’t sure how long the truce with the kitten would hold.

Resigned, he took the route that looked the least likely to crumble and dump him back where he started from and began to climb. The dirt had been a lot less muddy an hour ago as well, now that he thought about it.

He wasn’t sure what to expect from the little he could glean from Ricardo’s ramblings. All that he knew for certain was that their long Latin name that boiled down to rare desert cat offshoot successfully bred in captivity for the first time had done a runner. Bad enough in itself, but there was a storm coming into the area and this particular breed not only loathed water like any sensible cat, it could literally die from the exposure to it. Why that was the case, he still wasn’t sure, since Ricardo had descended into muttering by then, but he had the pertinent facts all tucked away. Water = Bad. Rescuing Cat = Good. Luckily Ricardo insisted that all of his specimens were outfitted with microchips, which made tracking the wee beastie down relatively simple. Until the whole cliff-thing, anyway. He’d decided to leave Ricardo back at his lab, figuring cat retrieval was probably a one-person job and that he couldn’t take much more babbling. Only downside being, of course, that now he was scaling a slippery cliff alone with a very pointy creature resting atop some organs he was kind of partial to most days.

Still, so far the mission hasn’t gone too badly, he decided. The cat had been found and was back in friendly hands, neither he nor it had been greatly injured in any way, and now he was almost home free.

He made it about three-quarters of the way up the cliff before he had cause to regret celebrating before safely back in the Sanctuary. Coincidentally, that was also the point where the mud reached sliding potential. A fact that he came to realize first hand. What the hell, why am I going backwards? This bit must be loose. With a side step, he lurched away from the mud that he was on, only to find that his new terra firma wasn’t very firm either. Maybe I can outrun it? Gotta get away from this mess – damn it! He was still sliding backwards and didn’t dare take his other hand off of the kitten to try and hold on to anything. Although he wasn’t having much luck with his free hand, anyway; everything was sliding downwards. Including him. After a few more seconds of vainly groping upwards, the mud slid his feet out from under him and he began to fall towards the cliff bottom below.

His ankle hit the rocky shelf first, bending sideways under the unexpected weight until it was joined by the rest of his body in a forceful hit that brought his freefall to an abrupt stop.

God. Can’t breathe. He tried to force air into his lungs, hating the feeling of the wind being knocked out of him. Finally breathing again, he turned to convincing the kitten to pry its claws out of his chest. A few curses might have been involved. Task accomplished, he looked around at where he had landed. Oh hell.

Below, he could see the cliff bottom and breathed a prayer of thanks that he had hit this little shelf. Had he made it down there, he would either have had a much greater impact on much pointier bits or been smothered by the waves of mud. Death by mud inhalation. Yech. Unfortunately, while alive, his little island was surrounded by loose, slippery mud and he had no desire to risk another mud slide. Not to mention, he came to realize, his ankle was sending out ‘I’m-pissed-at-you’ signals with great vigor. At least a sprain, he considered resignedly. Great.

Magnus was going to kill him.

He spent a few moments contemplating that fact, not getting any further than: Yep, you’re right. She sure is. With effort, he turned his thoughts towards how to get off of this cliff so that he might have the chance to go and meet his doom. While thinking, he turned over onto his side towards the cliff to better protect the cat from the still falling rain. Well, he could wait for the storm to pass and the mud to dry out before making another stab at escaping. Given that he had no idea how long it would continue to rain, however, not to mention his now-bum ankle, and that seemed an unfeasible option. He could give Ricardo a call; that was probably the best idea, actually. Getting out his cell was an acrobatic feat, given that it was in his back pocket, but once he had it in hand, he was strangely reluctant to place the call. What could Ricardo do, exactly? The man hadn’t had the resources to retrieve a kitten, let alone a kitten and a full-grown human.

Which left Option C. Not gonna happen.

Don’t even think about it, Will. The only thing worse than having to explain this, that he could think of, was having to call the Sanctuary to come rescue him and then explaining it. So what, you’re going to lay here until you melt? When had his mind turned against him, exactly? He tried to think of any other options, but his mind was consumed by thoughts of the Sanctuary. He could just see how this would go over. Kate would make fun of him, Henry would pity him, the Big Guy would smack him – or be so disgusted that he wouldn’t even rate being acknowledged with a smack. And Magnus… Well, now she had all the reason in the world to get rid of him. He couldn’t even argue with that one.

Except…

Maybe it was the cold seeping into his bones from the combined efforts of the rain, the mud, and the cliff rock he was resting on, but somehow he just couldn’t be as afraid anymore. Maybe he had taken a blow to the head. He was almost seeing double, but in a different way. Sure, those were all possibilities, but were they really the likeliest scenarios? Kate would definitely make fun of him. She made fun of everything – it was their thing, since when did he take it so seriously? So yes, teasing, but he bet she would also bring him junk food while his ankle was laid up without even asking and tell him to shut up if he tried to thank her. She had just been in the area and so what if it was his favorite crap? Lucky guess. Yeah, he smiled despite the rain. That was Kate.

And when had Henry ever pitied him? He might feel sorry for him, in a ‘we’re manly-men so I’ll punch you on the shoulder and say that this sucks, let’s forget about it while watching the new Star Trek movie yet again’ kind of way, but pity? Not really Henry’s style. And the Big Guy would have ample reason to try more of those disgusting herbal teas out on him, particularly if he caught the cold he was halfway expecting at this point. So, he’d be thrilled.

Now Magnus…

Here, he just closed his eyes and let the rain pound into him without thought for a few moments. Since he’d been hit by that car three years ago and stepped over the Sanctuary threshold, Magnus had become the center around which everything in his life revolved. She was his boss, his mentor, his surrogate just-about-everything, which caused two drastically different and conflicting responses in him, oddly enough. He trusted her like no one else on the planet and couldn’t imagine ever losing her. She could destroy him like no one else could and so he couldn’t ever completely trust her. He had no idea how to reconcile this, especially as he was barely able to articulate the dilemma to himself.

This past week, though, had brought all of this chaos bubbling to the surface and now he had to do something about it or risk spending all of his future weeks like this past one. Not a happy thought.

As he lay there, her last question floated across his brain: Can you honestly tell me that   
I am wrong? You’re wrong. His response.

His lie.

She knew him better than anyone else, not only who he was now, but who he had been for   
every year since he lost his mother. How was it fair that one person should have that much of someone? Like a record with bumps and skips in it, his memory tossed up more of their earlier conversation: We are not them… you don’t have to be perfect… you do not have to leave…

I will never send you away.

He knew, as a psychiatrist, as a profiler, as a man who had seen a bit of the world, that there were no guarantees. He also knew that Helen Magnus did not make promises lightly. Trust would never be easy for him, but if she hadn’t earned the right to ask this of him, then who had? She, who had always believed in his words, who had supported his actions even when they ran counter to her own, and who had never once treated him like a freak. He cradled the kitten tightly to himself and, tentatively, let himself believe.

Then, he made the call.

It was a start.

 

He had gotten Henry on the phone, a small mercy in all of this that he would not have to be the one to break it to the others that he’d basically gone AWOL. Plus, Henry had said they’d be right out, super fast, hold your breath we’ll be there, especially after he’d broken down and admitted that he was injured. Of course, even super fast and everything had to take distance and traffic into account. Still, he was thinking that half of an hour would put them here. Now he just had to keep the kitten happy, try to ignore the bits of his body telegraphing their disgruntlement to his brain, and not fall off his little shelf. Piece of cake.

It wasn’t too bad, actually. The kitten had, to all appearances, gone to sleep. The shelf   
was stable so far and big enough to fit all of him on it, curled up as he was. The only sticking point was his ankle, all the other injuries were a low murmur compared to that one. Okay, think about something else, brain.

What are you going to say to Magnus? He almost groaned aloud, then reconsidered, afraid to   
wake the cat. His brain would pick that topic. His ankle chose that moment to give a particularly vicious twinge and he gave in to his brain. Any topic to take his mind off of that pain.

Well, clearly he would have to apologize, certainly for breaking her ‘rules’ and for getting stuck on a cliff. He should probably also include one for walking out on her before and doubting her words and being such a pain for the past week and this was a really big apology that he could hardly expect her to just accept. What if this mess was the last straw for her? What if she showed up and decided that he was right, that his tenure was only a temporary one and he’d just worn out his welcome?

He could feel his heart pounding in his ears and tried to take deep, controlled breaths. Having a panic attack on a narrow ledge would probably not end well. Okay, if the worst came to pass, he could always go to Declan and then try to work on earning her forgiveness. Being sent away wasn’t always permanent; he’d lived with Aunt Mary twice, after all. So, he had a Plan B. Now, maybe he was wrong and maybe she wouldn’t be quite fed up with him yet. He would just need to work on trusting her before she hit her limit. The apology would stall her for awhile, at least.

His ankle was throbbing now, surprisingly in a well-syncopated rhythm with his head. Yeah, he was so going to wind up with a cold. Although, the rain did feel like it was starting to let up, which was nice. It might make it easier to get the cat to safety if they didn’t have to worry about him exploding or whatever it was his species did when exposed to water. Ricardo had been a bit vague about that detail as well.

He was so tired. The upcoming conversation with Magnus was going to be hellish. If he could just keep straight what he needed to tell her, maybe it would all work out. Or something. He was almost to the point of exhaustion where he didn’t care so long as she let him sleep before kicking him out of the door.

Was that a voice?

No. Wait, yes, and it sounded like his name.

He fumbled in the pocket of his jacket, hoping that his flashlight had survived the fall and let out a relieved sigh when he managed to click it on and point the steady beam up the cliff side. He could hear the voices getting closer then and smiled when another ray of light shot straight down to play over him. Ah, rescue at last.

For a while, all he heard was some clanging above him, then a break of silence, before a steadily louder squeaking noise indicated that something was descending to him. It stopped when it touched his shoulder and he looked over his back to see a platform with a cage waiting on it. Good, Henry had remembered to tell them about the cat and they were ready to take it up first.

Hesitating for a moment, he regarded the rain that still drizzled down, though much lighter than before. No, he couldn’t risk it. Awkwardly he unzipped his jacket and shrugged it off while keeping the kitten tucked inside. Luckily, it showed no inclination to brave the great outdoors and only gave him one last shallow swipe in goodbye. Ah, it seemed that his ribs were rather ticked off as well. Join the party, guys. Back of the line. Finally, he managed to stuff the jacket and cat into the cage and tugged weakly at the chain to indicate ‘ready for lift-off.’ The cat rose out of his range and he laid back down, shivering with renewed force at the loss of his jacket. It hadn’t given him much warmth, but at least it had kept the rain from soaking into his shirt. An indefinite amount of time later, during which he deliberately thought about nothing and tried to find his heartbeat under the twin pounding in his head and ankle, the renewed squeaking roused him enough to prepare for his own ascension.

Moving slowly, he managed to slide onto the platform once it had reached his level and fumbled for the straps he knew would be lurking around waist level. He had no desire to fall down the cliff twice in one night. Settled, he tugged the chain again and let out a sound that was most definitely not a whimper when the jerking upward motion jarred his entire body. At long, very long, last he arrived at the top of the cliff and felt himself settle to the ground. He was debating at what point he really needed to open his eyes and figure out what to say when he was enveloped with warmth. Oh, thank heaven for heated blankets. And those smart enough to being them along. He cracked his eyes open to see who the Warm-Blanket-Angel was, although he already knew who he would see.

And there she was, on her knees beside him, saying something over her shoulder to Kate that he couldn’t even be bothered to listen in on, a sight for sore eyes even as the rain began to run off of her hood onto her face. When she turned back to him, he was unprepared for the smile that lit up in response to his open eyes.

“There you are,” Magnus said, “Just hold tight and we’ll have you back in no time, alright?”

He tried to nod and closed his eyes involuntarily at the renewed pounding his head struck up. Ah, he’d forgotten about that.

“Will?”

He could feel her hand running through his hair and he forced his eyes open to find the furrow back in action. He sighed – an act his ribs protested – and managed to mumble out, “’m s’rry.”

Talking was hard to do simultaneously with chattering teeth.

Magnus must have understood him, however, as her hand dropped down to cup his face and she   
shushed him gently, saying, “Later, Will.”

Which wasn’t ominous, at all.

All of his thoughts from the cliff shelf tumbled through his mind and he felt his numb lips open again to chatter, “Y’ere righ’.”

It was a little fuzzy, but he was pretty sure that he wasn’t supposed to say that at all.

In response, Magnus’ thumb began stroking his cheekbone and his eyes slid shut again. He felt her other hand tucking the blanket closer around him and barely heard as the world slid away, “I know. It’s alright, Will.”

 

He woke up again in the van, finally away from the rain and the wind, to see Kate looking down at him with a half-smile on her face.

“Hey.”

He managed a semblance of a smile in return and tried to quell his irrational panic at Magnus’ absence. He knew if was irrational; shouldn’t that make it easy to stop? Apparently not, he determined, as he closed his eyes to try deep breaths again.

“Magnus,” he heard Kate call in her ‘oh, crap, boss’ voice over his head.

“What’s wrong?” and there was her voice on his other side now and the deep breaths finally started to work.

“Heart,” was Kate’s succinct answer and a bob of his wrist, which he just realized that she had a hold on.

“Too low?” that was Magnus’ version of the ‘oh, crap’ voice.

“No, it sped up a lot when he woke up, but I wasn’t sure if that was good, either.”

“Let me see,” he felt his wrist being passed over his body, “It’s not great, but it looks to be falling back into acceptable territory.”

“It was higher when I called you.”

The grip on his arm was loosening a bit and he forced his eyes open to make sure that Magnus was still there.

“Hello,” she looked a little worried still, though the furrow wasn’t as deep, “Take some deep breaths for me, okay?”

He kept up his breathing, but reached out his left hand to her as well. She caught it as it veered towards her and shot him a puzzled look.

“Y’ere?” not the world’s most understandable sentence, he would admit, but his body still felt half in a stupor. Anyway, Magnus would understand.

“Yes,” she did understand, “I’ll be here.”

He let his eyes slip shut again and concentrated on breathing, hardly noticing when he slipped away again.

 

The next time he opened his eyes, he could make out the glaringly white contours of the infirmary. Vaguely, he wondered if he should be annoyed at being down here yet again, but was distracted by how much colder than usual it seemed. He shivered and tried to curl into himself. A hand on his arm stopped him mid-motion.

“Still cold?” With a rub the hand left him, only to return bearing another lovely heated blanket. He could get addicted to these things. “You’re running a low fever, its left you a bit chilled. Aside from that, how do you feel?”

A question. He turned towards the voice and pried his eyes open again to squint in her direction, “Magnus?”

“Right here,” she rubbed his arm again and smiled down at him, before repeating, “How are you feeling?”

“Um,” he turned his attention to his body. It might be easier to catalogue what didn’t hurt. For a moment, he considered if he should try damage control on the injuries she knew about, but the thought of parsing out what to tell her made his head hurt even more. Plus, he suddenly noticed that he was back in scrubs, which meant he had no secrets right now anyway.

“Will?” Her other hand came up to cup his cheek and he realized that he had been silent too long. It was easier to convince his eyes to open this time, though, so surely that was a good sign.

“I think everything hurts,” he smiled up at her, trying for a ‘cheeky’ demeanor, “That cliff meant business. I might return with a bulldozer and show it who’s boss.”

“I’m not sure you should go another round with a cliff, Will. It’s been around considerably longer than you have,” she smirked down at him, before her expression softened again, “Does anything in particular hurt worse?”

“My ankle,” although it was miles better than it had been, just a dull ache, “I think I sprained it. And my head. It feels like someone with a mallet is going to town in there.”

“Dehydration is probably not helping your head, let me get you some water,” her hand left his arm and he couldn’t quite stop himself from reaching after her, hampered by the blanket as he was. “Hold on just a minute,” she said over her shoulder and he watched as she busied herself with pouring a glass of water, adding a straw before she returned to the bedside. “Now is the fun part. You’ll need to sit up a bit more.”

He shifted reluctantly, trying to gather the energy to sit up, but then she was holding him down and he looked up, confused. Did she change her mind about the water? Because it suddenly sounds less appealing to me, at least.

“Don’t sit up, Will. You’ll reopen the scratches on your stomach. Let me prop you up, alright?”

Oh, right, he’d almost forgotten about Mr. Claw-Happy. He tried to remain passive as Magnus slowly added pillows behind his back to raise him to an angle. Once he had reached what he guessed she deemed an acceptable height, she picked up the cup again and positioned the straw near his mouth. He worked on getting his hands free of the blankets, but they felt as though they weighed twenty pounds. Each.

“Will.”

He looked up from his battle with the hand-eating blankets to catch himself on the end of a stare that clearly said ‘drink-the-water’ and ‘now.’ He huffed a breath, but couldn’t summon up the energy to fight her on this and gave in, letting her hold onto the cup. Had water ever tasted this good before? He didn’t think so.

“Not too fast,” Magnus cautioned, pulling the cup back a few inches, “Slowly.”

He nodded, which brought the cup back into range, and contented himself with small sips until the cup was empty. As Magnus moved to set the cup down, he closed his eyes and decided to relish not being on a cliff anymore, even if his body still hated him. Reminded, he opened his eyes and started to again work on getting the blankets to relinquish his hands, only to have Magnus reach over and rearrange the blankets to free them easily.

“Thanks,” he said softly, gazing down at them as though they were foreign objects.

“You’re welcome,” she said and slid an arm around his shoulders. He assumed that she was going to lower him back down – heaven knew he could use more sleep; he could sleep for a week if it was all going to be peaceful dreams – and was surprised when she instead used her other hand to hoist herself up to sit next to him on the bed. Her arm encircled his shoulders and he followed his current disturbing trend of just giving in and let himself lean into her side.

“So,” she said, once they were settled side by side on the cot.

What did she want him to say? He didn’t know and, just this once, he couldn’t be bothered to worry about it. “So,” he heard himself say in reply.

“We should have a talk now, don’t you think?” Magnus asked softly, but he was pretty certain that it wasn’t really a request.

“Yes,” he answered just as quietly. After a few long minutes of silence, he realized that she was waiting on him to talk. Great, now he did have to figure out what she wanted him to say. And this time, she wasn’t even giving him any prompts. Well, what would he want to hear, if he was her? An explanation about The Killer Cliff Adventure would probably be good, Will.

“I didn’t mean to fall down a cliff,” he reviewed that statement in his mind. “Yeah, that’s probably obvious. I just meant that I didn’t think rescuing a cat, even a rare desert whatever, would be all that dangerous. And it wouldn’t have been, except for, you know, the whole mud slide thing,” he trailed off, uncertain where his argument was going at this point. Magnus remained silent, seemingly content to let him flounder through this conversation all on his own.

“I know that doesn’t make it any better and I still left without permission and alone and everything, but I swear Magnus, when Ricardo called I thought I would just go out, find the kitten, return him, and be back before you could say whatever Latin name they stuck the poor guy with three times fast,” he managed to get the sentence out all in one breath and had to pause to get some air and figure out what he was trying to say.

“So, I’m sorry. That I left and that you guys had to bail me out. I just needed… I just…” he stuttered to a halt. He remembered thinking on the cliff how if she would forgive him for this past week, that he would work on trusting her. Well, he had made it off the cliff and she hadn’t tossed him out of the door yet. Didn’t that mean he should keep up his end of the deal? Only it was a whole lot harder when she was actually here then when it was just him rehearsing in his head. “I just… everything you said before I left, Magnus. I…” he focused on his hands again and realized that they were performing some weird kneading action on the blanket. He tried to stop them only to have his leg start twitching, which was not only annoying, but also painful. His hands went back to kneading with his blessing, until Magnus reached over and caught them, twining her own fingers through his.

“I just needed… to know that I could still do this,” he rushed out in one breath at last. “Still be your second, not this… this… liability. I thought that maybe then,” he watched, almost as though his hands belonged to someone else, as they twisted around Magnus’ hand, tracing bones and veins and tendons. “Maybe you’d give me a… another chance. Even if I don’t deserve it,” his voice had been dropping throughout his monologue in some fashion that he couldn’t control. By the end he was whispering and didn’t even know if Magnus could hear him, but it was a relief to finally just say it. I screwed up. Please don’t get rid of me. Whatever response she gave, at least it would finally all be over. All this pretending.

The silence continued for some minutes, but he no longer had any words left to fill it with and was content to watch his hands play with Magnus’ like a four year old with a new toy.

“Do you remember our earlier conversation in my office?” Magnus finally spoke, “What I told you?”

“That… that I didn’t have to be perfect?” she nodded, her cheek brushing through his hair, but didn’t say anything further. He tried to remember more of the conversation. “That you wouldn’t,” he paused, swallowed, and the next words came out as a whisper again, “wouldn’t get rid of me?” When she nodded again, he let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding and wasn’t even shamed when Magnus tightened her arm around him and pressed a light kiss to the top of his head. Consciously, it barely registered over his relief. At least that hadn’t changed, for now. Still, there was one more thing he remembered. He let the rest of his weight lean against Magnus and whispered with a shaky breath, “That you weren’t… like them.” He had a feeling that by ‘them’ he was no longer audible to the human ear, but Magnus nodded all the same.

It hurt, almost physically, to speak further, but he couldn’t leave it there, “They didn’t… they had reason, Magnus. Reasons. Good ones.”

He could feel her drawing breath to speak, but she needed to understand this, “I told people that monsters were real. Studied too much and didn’t ‘join’. I was… just a weird kid. I could barely make any friends, even when I started lying about everything that had happened. I couldn’t, didn’t work out for them. Just not a good fit. Just not… good,” he trailed off, mentally finishing the statement. Enough. Just not good enough.

He fell silent again and, once it was clear that he was through, he felt Magnus draw another deep breath and braced himself, “They may have had reasons, Will. Maybe even understandable ones, though I think you give them too much credit. But not good ones,” he didn’t think he’d made any sound, but she suddenly disentangled her hand from his to tilt his chin up towards her face, “You need to understand, Will, that you did nothing to deserve any of that. You were good,” she gave him a half-smile as though she knew how the rest of the sentence in his head went. “Moreover, you are both ‘good’ and a ‘good fit’ here. I promise you, Will,” and her voice dropped into the intense register he generally only heard in the most serious of situations, “I promise, that so long as you want it, there is a place for you here. These doors will never be shut to you.”

Closing his eyes tightly, he forced back tears through sheer will and took deep breaths to calm down. He hadn’t cried in years, he wasn’t about to start now. When he thought he could speak without his voice cracking, he tried to lighten the mood, “Unless the Nubbins escape again, right?”

He knew she was smiling even before he heard the softly mocking, “Cheeky,” by his ear.

He smiled as well and the band around his heart eased, but then Magnus tilted his chin up again and looked down at him with a serious expression.

“Do you believe me, Will?”

“I,” part of him wanted to just say ‘yes.’ After all, that must be the answer she wanted. But a part of trust, a large part he was beginning to realize, was in trusting someone with the truth and he had sworn to work on this. Shakily, he admitted, “I want to,” and waited nervously for her reaction.

“Well,” it finally came after a moment, “that’s a start, isn’t it?”

Relief washed through him, followed shortly thereafter by a wave of exhaustion. He felt himself slumping completely into Magnus, but gave up caring and let his head rest on her shoulder.

“Good idea, you need to rest,” still she made no motions towards moving even as he began drifting away, lulled by the faint sound of her heartbeat near his ear, “We can discuss the repercussions for leaving on a solo mission, against my express instructions and without even telling me, later.”

Yeah, totally screwed. The thought barely crossed his mind before sleep pulled him under.


	10. Grounded

He winced as an indiscreet movement sent a throb of pain up his leg. Who knew broken bones hurt this badly? With a sigh, he sat back and tried to stop shifting. It was difficult; between his broken ankle, the healing claw marks that itched like crazy, two re-cracked ribs, and the vast collection of bruises, there didn’t seem to be one comfortable way to arrange his body on this sofa. Not to mention his cold. It could be worse, he reminded himself, remember the lecture Magnus read you?

If he had thought the worst was over after their chat in the infirmary while he was still exhausted and in pain, he learned how very wrong he was the next day. The storm had done him one good turn, at least: through the rain, Magnus hadn’t been able to see the cliff side. Once she returned the next day, however, and saw the area – particularly the aftermath of the mud slide and the condition of the caves he’d traipsed through alone – no amount of pain killers could buffer him from her temper. For the better part of an hour he had suffered through everything that could have gone wrong and people who had died in such a manner, simply by not taking proper precautions. Cave-ins, drowning in mud, dangerous hibernating creatures, he was fairly confident that she hadn’t left anything out. By the end, he felt about ten inches tall and a complete idiot.

 

Five Days Earlier:

“I’m actually not certain how you made it back here, Will,” she finally snapped at the end, “There must surely exist a patron saint of fools. You are extremely lucky to have only the few injuries that you do.”

“I’m not sure a broken ankle is exactly lucky,” he unwisely protested, cowed by her tirade, but still upset that he’d actually broken his ankle instead of the simple sprain he’d assumed.

“It could well have been a broken neck,” Magnus flatly stated, “Now get some rest. We need to discuss how we’re going to deal with this, but not until I find I’m less tempted to wring your neck myself.”

She stalked out then and he didn’t dare call after her. His rest was broken and disturbed until the middle of a nightmare in which Magnus shoved him back into the caves he’d been in the night before and walked out as a cave-in sealed him shut in the dark. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder and tried to escape from it, certain that it must be some creature he had accidentally awakened that now thought a Will-sandwich sounded just the thing.

“Sh, it’s alright.”

After a moment, he realized that the creature had Magnus’ voice.

Huh, he thought fuzzily, she must have found another entrance. He tried to beg with her to let him out, apologizing over and over again, but she just kept telling him that he was safe. How could he be safe in a cave? Something was undoubtedly going to eat them soon. He hoped that he would taste really, really bad.

Instead of being eaten, however, he felt Magnus reach out and pull him close in the dark. Abruptly, it wasn’t cave-darkness anymore, just a normal nighttime, and he looked around to find that they were on the North Tower. Then something happened involving gum drops and bouncing on tree tops, but it was all a little fuzzy after that point.

Waking up in the afternoon to find his head lying on a pillow in Magnus’ lap and the rest of him wrapped around her leg was unfortunately less fuzzy.

“Magnus?” he whispered, almost hoping that this was another dream.

“I’m right here, Will,” she said absent-mindedly, in a tone that suggested it was a phrase she had been saying frequently in the near past, and ran a hand through his hair, “You’re safe.”

“Um, I know,” he answered, confused, before trying to maneuver himself out of her lap only   
to be stopped by his ribs and the cuts across his stomach flaring in protest.

An arm across his back prevented him from moving any further and he waited in embarrassed silence through the shuffling sounds of papers being shifted away before Magnus slipped off of the cot and settled his head down on the pillow alone.

“Good timing,” she commented airily, as though all bosses let their employees use them as a teddy bear, “You’re awake in time for lunch.”

“I’m not really hungry,” he remarked, weakly, trying to figure out if he had imagined waking up in her lap in some drug-induced state. I must be on the good stuff.

“You’ve lost too much weight recently to be skipping meals,” she scolded lightly, preparing something out of his range of vision. Lunch, presumably. “I know the pain medications suppress appetite, but you must eat something.”

Magnus returned with a lap tray before he could work out a subtle way to word the question on his mind.

“Was I sleeping on you?” Yeah, real subtle, Will. He cringed at his own mental voice.

“Hm,” she made an affirmative noise as though the event were of no moment, “My lecture from earlier must have been a bit much for your system, your rest was incredibly disturbed. It was only fair that I make up for it, having set it off.”

Before he could figure out an answer to that, she scooted the tray closer to him   
pointedly, “Eat, Will. Try to get down at least half of that. I’ll be back shortly, I just need to   
file these,” she indicated the paperwork piled on the rolling tray to the side of his cot before   
picking them up and exiting the room.

Confused, he regarded the tray for a moment before deciding to chalk it all up to the drugs and put it out of his mind.

 

Of course, it would be easier to put it out of his mind if he would stop thinking about it and blushing. Frustrated at his own mind he made an incautious movement and winced anew at the pain. Well, that was one way to focus on something else.

After three days of lying on this sofa he fumed, glaring at his ankle, shouldn't it be tired of hurting? He knew that if he asked, Magnus would supply something or other to take the edge off of the pain. And also knock him out. As he really needed to get some of this paperwork done, that didn't seem like a good option. Just a really tempting one.

Sighing, he made yet another mental note not to move, popped another cough drop, and turned back to reading about Henry's latest attempt to create a smaller stunner. A noise from the door caused him to glance up in time to see the Big Guy enter the room carrying a tea tray.

Startled, he looked over at the clock. How was it afternoon already? He looked over at his stacks of paperwork and relaxed upon seeing that his 'done' pile was considerably advanced from the morning. For a moment he had feared that he'd gone back to falling asleep every five seconds like he had on the first day outside of the infirmary.

Biggie might need some help with the tray. He shifted to rise, but was interrupted before he'd made it to the edge of the sofa.

"Stay put, Will." Magnus rose from behind her desk to go and assist.

He sank back onto the sofa with a sigh and a cough. Another month of this might just kill him, although it was going better than he'd expected when Magnus had first told him about her plan.

 

Four Days Earlier:

“So, until I can trust you to exercise a modicum of common sense,” Magnus’ tone towards the end of her sentence took on a biting edge. He winced. “You’ll be with me.”

He looked at her blankly for a few moments, hoping for clarification. She simply stared back at him, implacable, waiting for a reaction.

“On missions?” he finally hazarded.

“No, you’re off the active list until that ankle heals,” Magnus shifted further onto the cot and placed a hand on the other side of his legs to prop herself up, “I meant you’ll be by my side.”

How was this different from usual?

“All day, Will,” she expanded, seeing his continued confusion, “Where I go, you go.”

He was beginning to catch hold of the idea, but he was not liking the shape it was taking.

“But, my work?” he spluttered.

“Can just as well be done in my office. Apart from seeing to patients, of course.”

“I can’t sleep in your office!” he blurted out, shocked at the turn this conversation had taken.

“You have before,” Magnus pointed out with a teasing smile. He furiously trounced the blush that tried to make its way to his face. The woman could work inhuman hours; he should get a little credit for at least trying to keep up. “But I believe we can make an exception for that and let you sleep in your own room. For all waking hours you’ll be with me.”

“You can’t…” he tried to wrap his mind around this insane idea long enough to refute it, “This is crazy. I’m perfectly capable. This is…”

“Will.” Magnus cut into his somewhat disjointed ramblings and began to tick points off on her fingers, “You ignored my orders. You left on a mission without telling anyone. You went, alone, after a creature that you have admitted you know little about. You climbed down a cliff and entered a cave system without any of the proper equipment or precautions. You did all of this without letting anyone know where you were.” She held up a hand when he went to explain himself. “I know you are capable, Will but, even barring any of the disasters that you were lucky enough to avoid, consider what did happen. What if the creature hadn’t been so weak with hunger that it didn’t have the energy to maul you beyond a few weak swipes? Or what if your phone had been damaged in the fall? How much longer do you think it would have taken us to find you? Once we even knew to begin looking for you – which would have been when? The next morning?”

“I,” he stopped, torn. It sounded so much worse the way she phrased things. It hadn’t been that bad, really.

“You need to learn to trust us, Will. To trust me.”

He looked up at that statement, feeling his eyes widen, no longer finding his hands quite so fascinating.

“I do trust you. Always.” It was practically an immutable law of the universe. She had to know that, didn’t she?

Magnus gave him a soft smile, “Not just with what you find convenient for me to know, Will, or what I already know from your past.”

“I do, Magnus,” he broke in, not wanting to hear what else she knew about him, or could guess, “It’s not you, it’s, it’s me.” He paused, then brought a hand up to cover the snicker that he couldn’t quite suppress, “I sound like a teenage girl.”

“Yes,” he heard the laughter in her voice and snorted before she turned serious again, “but I still want to know what you mean.”

“I mean,” he huffed a breath, laughter dying away fast, “I don’t know.”

He waited in silence for a moment, but she made no moves to speak. How do I say this?

“I’m going to screw this up.”

Well, that’s one way.  
“Not so long as you remain yourself, Will,” came the almost immediate answer, followed by a pointed, “and stop hiding from me.”

He shook his head slightly, staring at his fingertips instead. One day, he would have these whorls memorized. He felt a tap on his chin and looked up into soft blue eyes.

“I believe we got off subject a bit.”

What was…? Oh right, her insane plan.

“I daresay that by the time your ankle had healed, if we haven’t killed each other, then you may safely assume we can work with each other for many years to come.”

She stood while he processed that statement and walked towards the lab table. Probably getting one of those trays with which she took an unholy delight in stuffing him. By the time she let him out of here, they’d probably have to roll him to his office. Or hers, now. He cringed. Trying to distract himself, he stretched for the tablet Magnus had left just out of reach. If he propped himself up on his elbow, leaned that way to avoid pulling anything that hurt, he might just be able to get it.

“Perhaps by then,” she continued, “I’ll also feel more confident that you won’t tear off half-cocked again.”

His elbow slipped, smacking against the bed frame, and he awkwardly fell half off of the cot. Pain burned across his stomach and ribs. A few soft curses slipped from his lips. Smooth, Will.

He tried to ignore the sigh behind him and the muttered, “Or maybe not.”

 

He was roused from the beginnings of a light doze by the sound of porcelain tapping gently down on wood nearby. Looking over, he saw Magnus retreating towards the desk with her own cup of tea. Left behind on the table for him was not only a cup of tea, but also a light luncheon. He wasn’t sure if it had been Magnus’ idea or the Big Guy’s, but it hardly mattered as it seemed they were both in collaboration to stuff him as often as possible.

Feeling long suffering, he ignored both cup and plate, returning to his remaining files. He got away with it for less than half of an hour before the displacement of Magnus settling at his hip pulled him from his third rereading of page three, sentence two in the world’s most boring document.

“Interesting case?” she asked blandly, with an eloquent arch of her eyebrow.

He turned back to the first page for the subject line, “Reorganizing the cataloguing of those subspecies of the pterodactyl which are flightless.” He made a face, “Riveting.”

“Ah. Then I am curious why your tea holds little appeal for you.”

“You aren’t going to change me from a coffee-drinker to a tea-drinker through forced indoctrination,” he grinned challengingly at her.

“Heaven forbid,” she quipped back, “Are you also swearing off sandwiches?”

“We had an early lunch not that long ago,” he shifted slightly and regretted it instantly when his ankle twinged louder in protest.

“One at which you barely ate anything,” Magnus immediately fired back. “What’s wrong?”

At a slight crinkling sound, he looked down to see the file had given in to the tightening of his hands and was now a little bent around the edges. He focused on smoothing it out once more, but he knew that Magnus wasn’t going to give up. She could be annoyingly focused at times. Trust, Will, he reminded himself when, as expected, Magnus remained unmoving, you’re supposed to be working on this, remember?

“My ankle hurts,” he muttered, cringing at the slight whine wending its way through the sentence.

“You should have said something earlier, that’s easy enough to fix,” she made as if to move off of the sofa, but he reached out and caught her arm before she rose.

“No, I don’t want to be knocked out again,” he quirked a half-smile up at her, “I’ve almost caught up on these files and I swear they breed whenever I fall asleep.”

“At this rate you’re going to run out of reports before the first week is up, Will,” she scrutinized his face for a moment, until he grew self-conscious and looked back at the file in his lap. He didn’t look back up until her thumb rubbed over his cheekbone, “and you look as though you could use the sleep.”

“I think that’s all I’ve done for the past week,” he groused.

“Your body’s recovering, Will. Not to mention fighting off that cold. It likes sleep even if you don’t.” She moved her hand up to rest the back of it against his forehead and frowned at the heat he knew was radiating off of him. “Let me get you something for the pain. I suspect that’s all that is keeping you awake right now, anyway.”

“But, I need to…” he motioned vaguely at his ‘to-read’ pile, before she cut him off.

“Either pain meds and a nap now or you can stay in the off-bedroom tonight,” Magnus stated in a tone that left no room for argument. She reached out to tilt his face towards the light, “Did you get any sleep after you left last night?”

Bringing the off-bedroom into the equation was just low. Tucked behind an unassuming door at the back of Magnus’ office was a small bedroom and en suite where she had a habit of stuffing those injured members of the staff that she didn’t trust to rest on their own. Mainly, as every member of the staff agreed, it accomplished one thing: it gave her ample opportunity to perfect her hovering. They were notorious for attempting to avoid it at all costs.

“Yeah, I got some,” he answered vaguely. It wasn’t quite a lie. He had dozed a few times briefly, but between the pain, the cold, his nightmares, and his usual insomnia, his last bout of true sleep had been when he fell asleep on the sofa two nights ago. Rather than wake him up to send him to bed, Magnus had left him on the sofa and he had woken in the morning with a blanket tucked around him. He had made certain to make it to his bed the next night, but now he was actually considering that night with a deep fondness. Sleep was so very underrated.

He closed his eyes against the light and let his head rest against her hand.

“Hm,” she hummed a disbelieving note, “Or perhaps I’ll insist upon both.”

Inhaling a breath to argue, he instead let it out as a sigh. His instincts were telling him to argue, to keep her at a distance, but he was so tired. To be honest, in a way that he would never say aloud on the grounds of possibly being committed by his fellow employees, the off-bedroom was sounding pretty tempting.

He opened his eyes again and met hers for a moment, before making the unusual move to surrender.  
“Okay,” he said at last. Immediately, he realized that he should perhaps have given some context to that decision, as Magnus’ eyes flew wide open and her concerned furrow deepened alarmingly.

“I’m just too tired to argue with you, Magnus,” he hurried to say before she hauled him back to the infirmary.

“That’s a first,” she smiled at him and patted his cheek before withdrawing and standing from the sofa. She moved to her desk to rummage in the drawer with what he privately termed as her ‘drug stash’ in it. Her return was accompanied by two bottles of something that looked vile through the plastic sides and a glass of water. Retaking her seat, Magnus measured out a bit of the liquid from one into his tea and stirred it before handing it over to him with a stern look and the order, “All of it.”

Gingerly taking a sip, he was relieved that he couldn’t taste anything other than sweetened tea. Mindful of the watchful eye beside him, he quickly drained the cup and shifted to set it on the table again. It was intercepted on the way, though, and she added a dose from the other bottle to the empty cup and handed it back. At his questioning look, she explained, “That cold is tenacious and your fever’s rising again. This should help.”

Sighing, he slugged the dose back and grimaced at the taste. This one matched how it looked in terms of disgusting. He looked over at a tug on the cup and let Magnus replace it with the water. It took the entire glass before the taste was only an awful memory.

“The side effects will be less overwhelming if you have something in your stomach besides tea,” Magnus said softly, holding the plate out between them. Resigned, he avoided the sandwiches to nibble on a few of the vegetables and a cookie, enjoying the receding pain levels, before he could feel his eyes starting to fall shut against his will.

“You will be eating dinner,” she threatened before rising to let him shift his languid limbs down the sofa to lay flat.

“Um,” he managed, non-committedly, eyes refusing to open any longer as he felt a blanket being tucked around him securely and a pillow slipping under his head.

“Nearly asleep and still arguing?” he heard her gently tease and his lips quirked into a slight smile. Before he could retort, however, he felt the drugs sweep him under to sleep.


	11. Grounded II

Shifting in the incredibly comfortable bed of the off-bedroom far later into the evening, he tried to summon up that feeling of weightless slumber once more, but continued to fall short. With a sigh, he carefully sat up to relieve the pressure on his chest and try to get more breath into his congested lungs. Apparently neither the pain killers nor the cold meds outweighed the need to breathe. Unfortunately. Petulantly, he tossed the covers off, hoping that would at least make him feel cooler, even if it wouldn’t bring the fever down. He felt like he was on fire.

Resting his head in his hands, he tried to reason out what to do with the night that stretched out in front of him. Having Magnus one closed door and twenty feet away put paid to most of his options; no way would he manage to work or read without being noticed. Staring at the wall and wishing he could sleep would just be depressing.

Could Magnus do something? He skirted around the edges of the thought, uncertain if he wanted to give in twice in one day. Although, technically, it was a new day now, so maybe he could have a one per day limit? He shook his head with his hands; that had to be the fever talking. Still, giving in earlier hadn’t been the end of the world.

The sleep had been amazing – a feeling he wished that he could recreate now – and Magnus had woken him up at dinner as she had promised. Plus, after managing to eat at least enough that she let him set aside his plate, she had brought him up to date on a number of recent projects. Now he had both less files to read and a much more entertaining presentation of the relevant data. Magnus’ insights were always more in-depth than what was laid out in print and they had wound up the evening in a friendly debate over how the Moscow Sanctuary should proceed with their new fire-summoning intake. When his yawns had grown too frequent to ignore, he’d excused himself to the off-bedroom before she could usher him in and she’d let him go after being dosed with more meds. He’d settled down to sleep in the delightful expectation of a full night of peace, only to wake up not long after to misery. That was just cruel.

If he did go to Magnus, he turned the idea over in his head half-considering it, would that be too much for one day? Or two days, whatever, he added irritably. She shouldn’t be expected to concern herself with every minute of the cold he had brought upon himself. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, divided. Feeling better would be nice, but pushing Magnus into exasperation with repeated demands would not be so good.

Still, she hadn’t seemed to mind this evening and he didn’t believe that was just his wishful thinking. He knew she’d enjoyed the debate at least and not fighting her about sleep seemed to put her into a good mood. Maybe he could chance it?

He had shifted to the edge of the bed when the panic set in and he froze, feet on the floor. The what-ifs flooding his mind were daunting, relayed to his body in a further tightening of his chest. Closing his eyes, he focused on breathing as regularly as he could, if not very deeply.

Okay, Will, he slowly began to reason with his instincts, she told you to come to her, remember? Just take a small step here, if she looks like you’re pressing too much, say you were simply getting up for another reason. A hot drink or something. You can do this.

Reassured with a back-up plan in place, he groped for his hated crutches in the dark, wincing as everything protested grumblingly through the pain killers at the movement, and slowly made his way towards the door. Swinging it half-open, he paused to lean against the door frame and simply observe Magnus at work. He had only enough time to appreciate her look of concentration before she registered something off in the room and glanced up to catch him in the doorway.

“Will?” she rose and started towards him before he could say anything, “Why are you up?”

“I,” he faltered, a blush rising to his face. Distractedly, he wondered if asking for help would always be this hard. And embarrassing.

Standing in front of him by this point, Magnus tugged the door from his hand and opened it completely, “What’s wrong?”

She didn’t seem anything but concerned, so he plunged in raspingly, “It’s… breathing. I,” he stumbled a bit before determinedly looking at her feet as he confessed, “I’m having trouble breathing,” he drove forward before he could reconsider the consequences, “and I think I might be on fire.” Nothing wrong with adding a little humor to the proceedings, “I was concerned about, you know, the bedroom going up in flames.”

“I think the rest of the staff would give you a medal in that case,” Magnus murmured, which gave him the courage to look back up at her and smile. Returning it, she reached out and felt his forehead, quickly losing her grin, “Good lord.”

Her hand felt deliciously cool and he leaned into it, eyes falling shut, frowning when it moved down to his cheek. He opened his eyes and she motioned back towards the bedroom with a nod, “Come on, back to bed.” At his deepening frown, she pushed against his shoulder lightly as an encouragement to turn, “That fever needs to come down and I can hear your lungs rattling from here, you should not be on your feet. In you go.”

Reluctantly, he pushed away from the door frame, steadying himself on the crutches when he unexpectedly swayed. Her arm slipped between his side and the crutch to brace him, “Can you make it there?”

“Yeah,” he wheezed, “You don’t need to wake up the Big Guy. Just give me a minute.”

“I can bench press your current weight, Will,” Magnus stated matter-of-factly, “I hardly need help to get you across one room and into a bed.” At his shocked look, she smiled, “Does that give you a little incentive to gain some weight?”

Actually, yes, it did, but he was hardly going to admit the fact. Besides, his primary concern now was to make it across the room under his own steam. There was no way he was going to let Magnus carry him to bed. Turning around, he slowly hobbled towards his destination.

He made it. Barely, and Magnus did have to prove her claim when he made the mistake of propping his crutches against the wall first, leaving him stranded without a support to lever his body the last distance to the bed. She’d offered her shoulder in aid, but taking it had been a mistake. Once Magnus felt how erratic his balance was and the amount of weight he couldn’t support, she had slyly scooped her other arm under his legs and slid him onto the bed before he could wheeze a protest.

Propping him up with pillows to aid his labored breathing, she excused herself to the other room. He suspected she’d gone to raid the drug drawer. An hypothesis that was confirmed as she strode back into the bedroom with a medicine bottle in one hand. Settling herself on the edge of the bed, she poured a measure of the liquid into the plastic cup that had been resting atop it. She hesitated before handing it over, but eventually let his fingers wrap around the plastic.

“With all the medicine you’re on, you really need to be eating more, Will,” she explained at his   
questioning look, “I don’t want anything to shred your stomach. But,” she sighed, motioning to the dose, “that fever has to come down. I’ve asked my old friend to bring a few things up here, but that’s….”

Her voice trailed off as, at her motion, he quickly swallowed the medicine and pulled a face at the taste, trying not to cough.

“You must feel miserable,” Magnus said quietly, taking the empty cup from him. At his wide-eyes, she continued, “I don’t think you have ever taken anything without demanding to know what it was first. Even then,” she half-smiled, “I can’t always convince you.”

Should he not have done that? She was right, normally he was paranoid about being drugged, but the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. He sighed and rubbed at his eyes with a hand. He just wanted to go to sleep.

“Hey,” Magnus drew his attention back, smoothing a hand through his hair, “It’s a good thing, Will. At least with me, that is. And, if you’re curious, it was a fever reducer.”

He wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he simply nodded and tried to focus on the hand running through his hair and not his chest’s growing desire that he should cough. He just knew that would hurt. It worked up until she stopped and moved her hand down to take his wrist and press her fingers to his pulse points. The sudden change in activity caused him to take a slightly deeper breath and that was all the advantage his mutinying lungs needed. The coughing ripped through his chest, driving all the air out of his lungs. He was gasping for air, but felt like he was suffocating.

“Okay, it’s okay, lean forward, Will,” dimly through his focus on the need for air, he felt a hand against his back pushing him forwards. Complying, he fell against the arm that stretched across his chest to take his weight. “Relax, I’ve got you. Just lean on me and take slow breaths, okay?” The hand on his back began to run in soothing circles, but didn’t she see that he couldn’t breathe? The coughs felt as though they were tearing his chest to pieces. “Sh, Will, you have to calm down. Try to breathe with me, okay? In. Out. In. Will, please just relax and you’ll be able to breathe.”

It took far too long, in his mind, to convince his body that taking shallow breaths would get him air better than deep, gasping ones. By the time negotiations were over and his breathing had settled down to just the occasional hitch, he was listing towards Magnus’ side with exhaustion, her hands still supporting his chest and rubbing his back. When he heard the creak of someone entering the room, he didn’t even have the energy to care who was seeing him looking this pathetic.

“Perfect timing,” he heard Magnus say close to his ear, “Did you bring your herbal remedy for the lungs?”

“Hm,” he heard the grunt of affirmation and connected the dots. The Big Guy. Well, it could be worse, “Right here. Cooled.”

“Oh, good. I don’t want to risk raising his temperature any higher,” he wondered if he should be insulted that they were talking over his head as though he wasn’t in the room. Being insulted sounded tiring, though, so maybe he’d let it slide this once.

Magnus started to move beside him and, while he hoped that she wasn’t going to shift him back to the pillows, he definitely did not authorize his hand to clutch at her cardigan. He tried to correct the error, but the thrill of independent action had clearly transformed his hand into a rebel and it refused to let go.

“It’s alright, Will. I’m not going anywhere. Let me just move you slightly.” As she spoke, he could feel her shifting his weight from where he leaned forward against her arm until he rested against her side instead. Shouldn’t you be protesting this? He ignored the thought and instead closed his eyes, settling his head against her shoulder. He could be mortified when he felt less thoroughly horrible.

“This, too,” he heard the Big Guy mutter as Magnus turned towards the clatter of whatever he was setting up beside the bed.

“Oh,” she sounded surprised, but pleased, “Good idea. It can only help.” With an assenting huff, the Big Guy ceased his clattering and rounded the bed, settling on the other side of him. Magnus’ hand brushing his hair back away from his ear gave him warning before the thermometer blocked off his hearing. When it pulled back, he determined that the new grunt from the Big Guy was definitely disapproving. He hoped it wouldn’t be accompanied with a smack to the head this time.

Instead, he felt weight shifting off of the bed again as the thermometer was returned to the clattering area. Probably a tray, he decided.

“What do you need?” came the gruff voice once more.

“Nothing for the moment. I’ll get these into him and we can proceed from there.”

Footsteps started for the door, “I’ll be close.”

“Thank you. Will,” he opened his eyes at his name, and looked up gingerly, unwilling to chance speaking until he was certain it wouldn’t set off more coughing. “I need you to drink this. It’ll help with your breathing.”

He nodded and reached a hand up to wrap around the mug she held to his lips. At the first sip, only his desire to not cough ever again in his life kept him from spitting it back out. What the hell did the Big Guy put in these drinks anyway? The mug nudged his lips again, but he kept his mouth firmly closed. Nothing that tasted that disgusting could possibly be good to ingest.

“Will.” He flinched at her no-nonsense tone, but didn’t relent. Was she trying to poison him? “You do not want me to do this the hard way.” He believed her, but couldn’t convince his mouth   
to open. It knew what was coming and had clearly taken heart at his hand’s earlier rebellion.

At her sigh, his breathing picked up and he turned his head into her shoulder again as he tried to slow it down. No-more-coughing, no-more-coughing it chimed like a mantra through his mind.

“Do I have to bribe you with a story as I did Henry and Ashley when they were small?” her voice dropped at Ashley’s name, but otherwise remained steady. Distracted from his own troubles, he slid his hand off of the mug to run it over her forearm in comfort. He startled when she pressed a kiss to his head, but her next word was delivered in a warning tone that showed no equivalent softening, “William.” When he made no move other than dropping his hand from her arm back to her cardigan once more, he got another sigh. Not a good sign.

“In the early 1900s,” her voice softly began next to his ear, “James became embroiled in what he deemed a ‘most frustrating’ case at the behest of Scotland Yard.”

Despite his misery, he became wrapped up in the story of his literary-hero-turned-real. In the middle of the first presentation of evidence, however, Magnus’ voice stopped abruptly. He un-tucked his face from the crook of her neck to peer upwards and see what had happened. Instead of an explanation, however, the mug appeared at his lips again.

“Sip or I don’t continue,” she stated firmly. He blinked at the mug bemusedly for a moment   
before the pieces clicked. Bribed with a story. He blushed, but eyed the mug measuredly. Was it worth it? He had already determined where he would have started in the investigation and he did want to know what Watson had done. Resigned, he moved to take hold of the mug again, but Magnus moved it out of his reach. When he dropped his hand, the mug returned and he opened his mouth to take a much larger sip than he would have planned on his own. Trying not to cough, he screwed his face up and frantically tried to think of anything but the taste of dead things lingering in his mouth.

“At the scene, however,” Magnus voice took up the case again and he let his mind hold onto that as a distraction from the lingering disgustingness.   
It took most of the story to finish the mug and he noted that she had impeccable timing, pausing just when he most wanted to hear the next piece of the puzzle. Still, as the mug grew lighter and the taste grew stronger, he had to weigh his inclination to hear the ending longer at each pause. His bone-deep need for answers won out every time. Eventually. It seemed to take forever before Magnus said ‘last sip’ and the torture was finally over.   
His dismay when she reached over to the tray and brought back another mug knew no bounds. Apparently, it showed.

“It’s not more medicine, Will,” she laughed, “I hope you’ll not even need any persuasion to drink this. Here.”

Magnus set the mug in his hand and, dubiously, he sniffed the contents. It smelled… chocolaty? Tentatively he took a sip. Yes, definitely chocolate, strong and sweet, though it did have a hint of bitterness in the aftertaste. He took a larger drink and the coolness coating his throat made him brave enough to chance speaking.

“What is it?”

“Chocolate, I believe,” he leveled a glance at her. He knew subterfuge from her and wasn’t inclined to let her get away with it this time. “It’s a nutritional supplement, Will. You aren’t giving your body enough calories to fight off an illness. This is packed with them.”

He eyed the drink suspiciously once more. Normally, he’d object to consuming anything ‘packed’ with calories; the baby fat that had taken a few extra years to wear off had made him leery of too many calories. However, given that his most substantial meal in days had been the scant portions he’d eaten tonight, she was probably right. He took another sip of the liquid and tried not to jump when Magnus hugged him tighter for a moment, clearly in approbation.

“I suppose you want to know how James finished the case?” she inquired teasingly.

He nodded, trying for casual interest and dismally failing if Magnus’ chuckle before she picked up where the story left off was any indication. Sipping between shallow breaths, he listened in fascination to the results of the most brilliant mind he’d ever heard of applied to a veritable labyrinth of a mystery.

Case complete, Magnus plucked the empty mug from his hand and set it on the tray. She returned with the thermometer and motioned for him to lean his head over again. He complied, fairly certain that his temperature was lower. He at least felt cooler; now if he could only breathe then he might still have a chance at sleep tonight.

“Good,” she stated in a tone of relief, “It’s inching down. The fever reducer is working, so let’s say a dose every four hours until its back within a normal range. Provided your lungs sound any clearer, we’ll put the herbal remedy on the same schedule.”

He wasn’t sure what sound he made, but clearly it was both audible and pathetic, because Magnus responded to it with a soft laugh.

“Yes, you have to drink more of it. If you can next time, I would recommend tossing it back as quickly as possible. And you can have more of the supplement afterwards; that should wash the taste out.”

“Water’s fine,” he breathed softly, carefully testing his ability to talk without coughing. One mug loaded with calories was one thing, repeated mugs was quite another.

“You’ll be drinking plenty of water, but it won’t give your body fuel. Nor will it help fill out these hollows,” her thumb stroked over the cheekbone not pressed to her shoulder. “You’ve not been eating well as of late and it’s beginning to show, Will. You’re too thin for my liking.”

“It’s… well, I’ve. Stress,” he sighed at last. It was hard to convince himself to eat when his   
stomach was tied in knots, “and then this.”

“Well, until you’re well and eating normally again, I think you should stay on the supplement.” It might have been phrased as a suggestion, but he knew an order when he heard one. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt for a while. And it wasn’t as though he was being given much of a choice.

Taking his silence as assent, Magnus moved on, “I want to do some blood work as well. Your fever spiked very quickly; I’d like to get a better idea of what we’re dealing with here.”

He shifted uneasily against her side, “Just a cold,” he whispered.

“Perhaps,” she ran a hand along his side, “but I’d like to check everything, in case.” He nodded into her shoulder, reluctantly, with a disquiet she obviously picked up on, “It’s just a precaution, Will.”

He nodded again and debated sitting up. This mollycoddling had gone on quite long enough, his stern conscience demanded, time to sit up and, hopefully, pretend that it never happened. He sighed, but he was so tired. Hadn’t he already decided just to be completely mortified when he was better? Yes, he closed his eyes and willed his lungs to clear so that he could sleep, that sounded like a good plan.

 

It was a few hours later, not long before the dreaded herbal stuff would once more be foisted onto him, when Magnus made an intrigued and dismayed sound at the tablet she was poring over.

“Will,” she looked over to where he was propped up next to her in the bed, zoning out against her shoulder between labored breaths, “when you were caught in the mud slide, do you remember inhaling or ingesting any of the mud?”

“Ick,” was the first thought that came to mind. “I don’t remember,” he said softly. “Probably, it was everywhere.”

“That would explain the results from your blood and sput… and what you’re coughing up,” she changed phrases mid-sentence, remembering his dislike for most of the technical terms dealing with bodily fluids.

He still wrinkled his nose, but forbore from commenting.

“What is it?” He then hurried to add, “Do I want to know?” The hurry was ill-advised, he began another – thankfully gentle – coughing spell and Magnus handed him the latest in a long series of handkerchiefs and gently rubbed his back. Once it was over, she answered his question.

“Let’s suffice it to say that we’re going to need a little antibiotic help to defeat what you picked up,” he knew that she had seen the grimace that time when he heard the laugh next to his ear. “Let me run down to the infirmary and get what we need.”

He shifted to sit up against the pillows instead of her shoulder and firmly stuffed down all feelings of abandonment. For pity’s sake, Will, he scolded himself, she’s going down a few levels, not to the South Pole!

Before leaving, Magnus set a walkie down by his hand and held up another in her own.

“Just in case,” she promised, heading towards the door, “and don’t you dare leave that bed.”

Somewhat reassured, he wrapped his hand around the walkie and decided this was the perfect moment to have a little talk with himself about his deplorable actions and coming humiliation. It was a good plan.

Unfortunately, he zoned out again staring at the wardrobe against the wall, only starting out of it when Magnus reentered the room with another tray in hand.

“Hey,” he tried to smile.

“Hey yourself,” she set the tray down near the bed and motioned for his arm. “Let’s get this into you, so it can start working, alright?”

Handing over his arm, he resolutely looked over at the wardrobe once more until he felt the needle withdraw.

“I’m done,” Magnus commented, capping the needle once more as she held the cotton ball on with one hand. Clumsily, he reached over to aid her, but she brushed his hand aside and set the needle on the tray to put a band-aid over the spot. “Now, let’s see if that doesn’t help.”

“Here’s hoping.” He paused, before pushing onwards, “I guess,” he rasped, trying to do right by his conscience, “that I’ve kept you from Sanctuary business more than enough for one night.”

He could feel the sharp glance landing on his face, but didn’t want to look at her at the moment. Letting her go back to what she actually should be doing might be the right thing to do, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

His surprise when the bed rocked as she settled herself beside him once more, however, caused him to look over at her involuntarily.

“I’ve decided I quite like working from this bed,” Magnus stated airily. “Plenty of tea,” with a nod to the service the Big Guy had set up in the room, “better pillows than I remember, warm blankets, and,” she emphasized in a tone he knew to be wary of, “I have you trapped all to myself. Although considerably less cheeky than normal.”

His cough that time was from forgetting to breathe in shock.

“So I’m afraid that you’re stuck with me,” she finished in the same cheerful tone, turning to grin at him. Taking in the slightly stunned look on his face, the grin faded to a wry smile and she reached out to stroke the side of his face. “Oh, Will. It can’t be that much of a surprise that I enjoy your company, can it?”

“But I’m…” he trailed off and gestured to his chest dumbly.

“Yes, a bit quieter than normal, but that just means I get to win our arguments.” With a wicked grin, Magnus tapped his nose, before continuing, “Falling ill is just an inevitable part of life, although you do seem to be setting some records.” As his eyes dropped to focus on her shoulder, she reached over and nudged his chin up, “I’m a doctor, Will, why should I reproach you for contracting this bug or breaking an ankle? I wasn’t thrilled with your carelessness, but I never questioned the injury. As for this,” she motioned to the two of them, “I’ve always been a tactile person, Will, and not likely to turn down a chance to cuddle with someone I care for, particularly if it brings you comfort.”

“But you don’t…” one day soon he hoped to regain his ability to finish a sentence.

“In the day-to-day, it’s seldom appropriate in my business dealings. Not to mention, I seem to be surrounded by very self-contained people. Neither Kate nor Henry is keen on more than minimal contact, apart from the occasional moment of distress. I had no idea until recently that you responded so positively to it.”

“I’m not…” he stiffened slightly and looked down at his hands, but his sentence still wound up trailing off into silence.

At her touch to his back, he tried not to lean into it, instead pulling into himself.

“Ah, ah, none of that, Will,” her arm slid around to tuck him into her shoulder once more. “There’s   
nothing to be ashamed of, m’lad, and I’m… curious why you think otherwise.”

After a moment’s thought he let himself lean into her, but declined to answer the implied question. “’M’lad’?” he rasped instead. Finally, a complete thought, even if it was just the one word.

“You have a deep objection to names of endearment?” her tone was teasing. Apparently, he was allowed to pass on that question.

“Never thought about it,” he shrugged his free shoulder and continued softly. “Better than Dr. Expendable. Or Junior.”

“Ah, yes, Nikola,” he smiled at the peculiar mix of exasperation and affection the man always seemed to engender from her, “I’m not sure those fall precisely in the category of ‘endearing.’”

“Probably do. For him.” he suggested, considering the odd scientist, so flamboyant in his actions that it took time to realize how closely he guarded his real self. “Endearing. Doesn’t let you know it.”

For a moment, her stillness made him worry that he’d said something amiss. When he went to pull away, though, she tightened her grip and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Sometimes even I forget how perceptive you are – Nikola would be so disappointed to know that you can see through his act.”

“Still annoying,” he felt obligated to point out, truncating his sentences to stave off a severe coughing attack, “Can’t feel too bad.”

Her laugh brushed over his ear, “Yes, well, he does work at that and he’s had a century of practice.”

“Mm,” he agreed, “Good defense.”

“Not one that I want you to imitate,” Magnus’ tone was still light, but there was a layer of warning underneath.

“Couldn’t pull it off,” he joked, to ease her mind.

“Thankfully, I believe Nikola is one of a kind,” she admitted.

“Rather be like another of The Five anyway,” he teased, although it brought on another mild coughing fit.

“And who might that be?” she inquired archly, once his breathing steadied. He sipped from the glass of water she passed to him before he chanced an answer.

“Brilliant mind. Firm dedication. Boundless curiosity,” he smiled innocently over at her, but she knew him too well to take the bait and only raised an eyebrow in inquiry. Remaining silent, he continued to project an air of guilelessness.

“That wasn’t a name,” she finally said suspiciously.

He affected surprise, “Didn’t give it away?”

“Will,” she was trying to keep her lips from curling upward and failing.

“Watson, of course,” he kept up the innocent smile long enough for her eyes to narrow, before he dropped it to grin at her.

“Utter cheek,” Magnus muttered, attempting to force her features into a frown, “You must be feeling better. Which reminds me,” she ostentatiously checked her watch before reaching over to the tray and bringing back a mug. She smiled vengefully at his fallen expression, “See if I tell you a story about James this time.”

He coughed lightly, eyeing the mug, “The antibiotics?”

“Could use the help,” she dropped the ruffled act and ran a hand down his side, “Can you chance gulping it this time?”

He checked in with the tightness in his chest and willed it to loosen just a little more.

Unsuccessful, he shook his head slightly.

“Damn. Well, you have to start sometime,” she passed him the mug and he tried to tamp down the nausea the very sight brought to him, “As large a sip as you can will get it over with faster.”

After he managed to keep the first sip down, he did convince her to tell him a story. Magnus kept her word, though – she wouldn’t tell him one about Watson.


	12. Epilogue

“I didn’t notice any problems yesterday with you walking on that ankle. Is there anything I should know about?” Magnus turned away from the lab monitor to shoot an inquiring look at him.

“It’s fine,” he said quickly. Wilting a bit under the stern look directed his way, he explained further, “Really. It, it doesn’t feel quite as strong as the other, but there’s no pain and it hasn’t tried to give out or anything.”

“Relax, Will,” Magnus returned to his side where he was sitting on an infirmary table, “It will take some time to rebuild it up to strength, but I’m not going to insist on returning to crutches.” She paused, before continuing with a smile in her tone, “Although I think I should feel   
hurt that you’re that eager to stay out of my office.”

“It’s just that mine missed me so much,” he said in faux-earnestness. “And the files! You would never approve of the lack of filing that’s been going on. I’m doing it for you, really.”

“Mmhm,” she hummed in complete disbelief, “Just remember that my office is where the staff meeting is held, so you can’t avoid it forever.”

“Of course,” he said a little too easily, just to earn the suspicious look she shot his way. Truthfully, after practically living in her office for the past several weeks, he was surprised at how strange it was to settle down in his own. Although he had been seeing patients there once the dreadful bug had died a lingering death, it had been little more than a stopover point before heading back to his sofa. Also, his bed was nice and all, but he wanted to know where in the world that one in the off-bedroom had come from. It was like sleeping on fluffy sheep. Only less noisy.

In any case, he had no serious objections to going back to visit what he now thought of as his sofa. Especially if the woman who ostensibly owned it was in residence; perhaps the hardest change was getting used to not having her within arm’s reach at all times. He would never have expected to become used to their cohabitation, but just that morning he’d been reading a file and found himself speaking aloud to an empty room.

Magnus, of course, he considered, was probably basking in the silence. He had tried to be as quiet an intruder as possible, but surely she must be grateful to have her own space back. As he thought about her office without him cluttering it up, the woman in question rummaged through her lab coat and emerged with a pen that she waved under his nose.

“Ah, but if you don’t come back, I’m beginning to fear you will never write again. I found this one behind a vase on the mantle. Exactly how many pens did you lose in my office?”

He blushed and ran a hand over his hair to give him an excuse to duck his head. “I don’t even count anymore, Magnus. I just buy a couple boxes at a time and resign myself to the loss.”

“Not much of one,” she scoffed, reading the logo on the flimsy barrel. “Is that why you never have a decent writing utensil?”

He nodded, shamefacedly, “Yeah. I’d just lose it, so it doesn’t seem worth the cost.”

“This makes eight,” she said, handing it over and watching as he stuffed it in a shirt pocket. “That’s simply ridiculous, Will.” Watching as he carefully avoided her eyes, she plucked the pen back out of his pocket and held it out of reach when he tried to grab for it. “I’m thinking of keeping it as a souvenir. If I did, how many pens would your office have right now?”

“Uh,” he stalled, trying to figure a way out of the question.

“I thought so,” Magnus muttered triumphantly, “What happened to the seven I already retrieved?”

He gave a small sideways shrug, “They’re in my office. Um, somewhere. I’m pretty sure.”

She handed the pen over once more, smirking as he buttoned the pocket over it this time. “What am I going to do with you?” she questioned offhandedly.

He froze for a moment, looking up at her through his lashes and registering that she looked to be regretting the phrase at his silence. Before she could smooth it over, he plunged in, “Well, I guess not let me near your pens,” he smiled shyly, “since I heard somewhere that you might be, might be stuck with me.” He swallowed a bit nervously and looked down at her ridiculously high heels.

A soft laugh teased a smile onto his lips. Magnus stepped over and tugged him close in a hug that he relaxed into, for once, to wrap his arms around her waist. Pulling back to smooth his wild hair away from his forehead, she pressed a kiss to it, “Very good advice, m’lad.” She paused before finishing mock-sternly, “Particularly the bit about the pens.”


End file.
